Dedication
by aicila59
Summary: Few things were likely to interrupt Severus Snape's ever -miserable and ever-monotonous life that night. How little did he know. Peter Pettigrew' s capture was about to trigger a series of events few could have predicted.  Set in The Order of the Phoenix
1. Prologue

**Claim : Here is my first attempt at a several-chaptered fiction, I wrote this without any clear idea as to where this story will lead to, I will try my best to pursue it. I would like your opinion about this first piece of writing, english is not my mother tongue, I will not mind anyone pointing out my mistakes ;) It's quite short, I'm aware of that, but I intend to write longer chapters in the future ;)  
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**None of the character I'm toying with belongs to me, all credits goes to J.K Rowling, but do I really need to remind you of that? :P**

**Prologue**

_"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"_

_"In - in return?"_

_"Anything."_

Oh that, he did, he gave anything he could have given, he has devoted himself to a worthy cause, he has endeavoured to redeem himself from his monumental mistake that cost the only person he has ever cared about, that cost his sweet Lily her life. He often toyed with the idea that he has indeed redeemed himself, although he often reckoned that redemption did not fit him, he was not fit to the very concept.

And yet.

And yet, Severus Snape has given his life for the greater good, it has claimed his life and he gladly gave it, hoping that it would be enough to heal every wound his miserable fate has bestowed him.

How very wrong he was.

Funnily enough, he has always viewed Albus Dumbledore as a mentor, a paternal figure coming to replace the man who has shattered his childhood into little pieces, into sharp shards that had cut deeper and deeper as Tobias Snape had denied his son a proper father. Dumbledore was the only one who has given him a chance to mend his wretched life, he kept him out of Azkaban, he gave him a proper job, even though Severus Snape had very little affection for his students, he was, at least, safe and reasonably well-esteemed among his colleagues, or so he liked to think.

There was one silver lining in his life, one tiny silver lining : he had an aim, one ultimate task he attempted to fulfill. His sweet Lily, his eternal Lily, the only person who has ever seen some good in him, the only person who was there when everyone else had failed and deserted him. Protecting her blasted son was the least he could do, even if he did so begrudgingly.

Severus Snape shook his head, brooding was not a habit of his and he has never not allowed himself to wallow in self-pity, he never will. He still had papers his students handed in to mark and brewing to complete, he had no time to waste for emotions.

He looked up the name written on the paper at the top of the pile.

5th year Slytherin and Gryffindor, Potter and cie and their miserable attempt at potion, oh joy.

He applied himself to the task and within the hour, half of the pathetic papers of his students were graded and a fair amount of red ink adorned them.

A fire was burning in the heavily garnished hearth of his office, its red light shrouding the numerous glass jars containing floating dead creatures. It was winter and the dungeons, damp and chilly even in summer, were freezing cold that evening, the Slytherin common room will need enchantments to keep his students reasonably warm, Severus thought to himself.

From Albus possible dropping by to the replenishment of his ingredients cupboard for classes, mundane thoughts crossed the professor's mind that night, few things were likely to interrupt his ever -miserable and ever-monotonous life that night.

How little did he know.


	2. A not so ordinary day

**Disclaimer :**** Here is the first chapter, I don't know yet to what extend I will develop, but I've already written 4 chapters ;-) A plot is slowly forming and I expect the chapters to be quite short, but numerous ;-)** **Please tell me what you think about it! **

**No character is mine, they all belong to J.K Rowling, isn't it already obvious? :P**

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><p><strong>A not-so ordinary day<strong>

Thick snow covered Hogwarts grounds, muffling the sounds of all living creatures. The castle's population was still sleepy, it was early in the morning and classes would not start before several hours. Slowly awakening from Morpheus' realm, Harry Potter had slept peacefully, without any visions disturbing his dreams; yes, Harry Potter was glad that day. Even though a peaceful night should not be a cause for celebration, it was one of this rare snippets of normalcy that sometimes crossed the young boy's life and he was thankful for them, even though no normal teenager boys should ever have to treasure this kind of moments, it was not exactly a secret that Harry was no normal teenager boy.

His dorm mates were soundly asleep and he was fairly certain that his friends would not be up before another hour, he then just laid there, in the warm and safe cocoon his bed provided, pondering on the lessons that awaited him this day. The day would start with Potions, to Harry's greatest displeasure, taught by the infamous Potions Master, Severus "I-hate-your-guts" Snape. It was no secret either that there was no lost love between the professor and the young man, it was perhaps one of these few things that Harry could rely on, one of these permanent landmark in his life ever since he has discovered that he was a wizard. His teacher's hatred toward him was nothing short of an institution, and in this troubled and unstable times, it was almost reassuring that some things did not change, _almost_.

He did not like to linger on the ever-growing danger of the outside world, no one did, but Harry, it seemed, had very little choice in the matter for the connection between him and Lord Voldemort that was mysteriously forged fourteen years ago was a constant reminder of the coming war. Fighting a war was a terrible thing, but waiting for a certain war to break out was even worse.

Harry shook his head to dismiss his thoughts, it would do no well to dwell on them for the moment, he was at Hogwarts, in the Gryffindor dormitory, and he was safe, that was all that mattered at the moment.

He got out of his bed, shivering slightly as the dorm temperature had dropped down over the night, and went to take a shower, trying his best not to make any noises in order not to wake up his snoring dorm mates.

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><p>In another part of the old castle, Headmaster Dumbledore was pouring over tedious paperwork, his wrinkled face screwed in concentration as he answered a letter from Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, who enquired a meeting with him. Nothing of great importance, but it required his attention nonetheless, like many other things of little significance. He put down his elegant quill onto his desk and blinked as the sunlight screened through the closed curtains of his office, bathing the whole room in a faint golden glow; the ancient-looking instruments glimmered dimly as the old wizard got up and found his way towards one of the shelves, his fingers gently stroking the old magical books it held.<p>

He fetched the one he was looking for and gently turned the yellowish pages, his eyes sweeping their content. Dumbledore sighed as he put the book back in the shelf.

As the year went by, he found himself in a growing jeopardy, he knew that the Ministry will stoop to any levels to supplant him and the slightest slip might cost him his position, something he was not willing to see happen as the security of his students was at the top of his priorities. Of course, he trusted the teachers to protect them at the best of their abilities and should anything happen, he would be notified immediately, but Dolores Umbridge, while she was a witch of little talent, was a real danger to the school he had worked to keep free from any outside influences. The ministry's meddling into school affairs could prove to be very detrimental to everyone, and it had already begun as "Professor" Umbridge managed to slither her way around the rules Dumbledore had set ever since he had taken the Headmastership of Hogwarts.

He will soon have to take actions to supplant her, he was not overly worried for her position was cursed and she will soon leave her post, however, a lot of damage can be done in 6 months and Albus Dumbledore was not one for inactivity, he will take steps, and he will do so very soon.

As his mind wandered and lingered on various topics, the clock above the mantel struck 8 o'clock.

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><p>Trust Ron to find the shortest way to breakfast, thought Harry. It was 8 o'clock and Harry, Ron and Hermione descended the stairs leading to the Great Hall as many students hurried their way down to have breakfast. It was an ordinary day, Harry decided, the Gryffindor table was buzzing with the students' conversations, Hermione worried herself sick over the Charms essay due for later in the morning, Draco Malfoy was snickering with his dim-witted "friends", Ron was devouring everything he could possibly reach, Snape's hair was as greasy as ever, yes, perfectly normal day at Hogwarts.<p>

Harry was trying to swallow the oatmeal in his bowl, Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper as she asked him :

'When do you think the DA will meet again, Harry?'

'I don't know' Harry told her in an equally low voice. 'I've been thinking of next wednesday, I still have detention with Umbridge and it's the only day no one has Quidditch practise, I still have to think about what to practise this time, we've just finished to cover the Impediment Hex, I thought...perhaps we could give a try the Stupefying Hex'

'Good idea Harry!' She told him in an excited and hushed voice. 'I suppose it will be a very useful hex...'

But Ron cut her with his mouth full of porridge :

'And I sh'pose you al'weady know how to cash't it Hew'mione' he swallowed. 'Not that you need much practice to cast anything, really.'

She faintly blushed up, trying to contain a smile, though it was not nearly enough to hide her contentment. She opened her mouth to answer him but was interrupted by the loud arrival of the post. Dozens of owls streamed into the Great Hall, circling the House table until they spotted the students they were supposed to deliver their burdens.

A brawny owl landed in front of Hermione, it was one of the Daily Prophet owls. Hermione was one of the few who had taken a daily subscription to the newspaper, therefore it was not surprising to find her nose buried in today's news every morning. She gently took the journal from the creature's claws and paid the 5 Knuts due for today's edition. Harry looked the owl swift departure as it flew out of the Great Hall. His daydreaming did not last long though, Hermione's loud gasp and Ron's widening eyes interrupted his thoughts.

'What's happening...?' Harry asked.

But the headlines answered his question before his friends could, today's frontpage read :

**Very much alive Peter Pettigrew captured by Ministry's forces!**


	3. A Flicker of Hope

**Disclaimer :**** Here is the second chapter, quite uneventful I must say, but I don't want to hasten anything in the story. I'm actually writing chapter 7 and I'm having more and more ideas, I have a clearer idea now as to where the plot is going ;) **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>A Flicker of Hope<strong>

**"**_**Peter Pettigrew, a man thought dead for 15 years, supposedly murdered by the convict Sirius Black, who evaded the wizarding prison Azkaban two years ago, was captured yesterday evening by Ministry's forces. Posthumously awarded of the Order of Merlin, Pettigrew turned out to be not as dead as everyone thought he was, the very much alive man will be questioned as soon as possible so as to unveil the mystery behind the man's fake death. Such a twist of event raises another possibility as to Sirius Black's guilt and involvement in Pettigrew's seemingly miraculous **__**resurrection. This case will certainly be investigated by the competent authorities to determine the precise roles of the two formers friends in You-Know-Who's ranks before his downfall. **_

_**Details of the Pettigrew case at pages 5 and 6"**_

Had the situation been less serious, Harry's look would have been comical to witness, however, the young boy could not care less as he was staring in disbelief at the headline. He could scarcely believe what he was reading, Pettigrew, whose picture was blinking stupidly, Peter Pettigrew was caught. Caught by ministry's forces according the article. Harry tore the newspaper from Hermione's hands and opened it at pages 5 and 6. He barely registered anything of what he was reading. Records of the 1981 investigation unfolded under his eyes : how only a finger was all that was left of Pettigrew, how Sirius was chucked into Azkaban, charged with the murder of his former friend, how the stinking rat was honoured and awarded the Order of Merlin, First class, posthumously.

The one thing he recollected from the article was one single sentence : "Sirius Black's seemingly guilt is now questioned by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement".

He looked up from the journal and glanced at Ron and Hermione, who wore an equal look of disbelief upon their faces, the three of them thought the very same thing.

As the blissfully unaware students ate their breakfast around him, Harry allowed himself one little glimmer of hope.

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><p>The teachers at the Head table were ceremoniously reading the article : Professor Sprout held her fork in midair, scrambled egg falling on her robes, Professor McGonagall 's were jumping from one sentence to another and her lips were pursed. Dumbledore was frowning as he read the journal through, his features hardening and his eyes devoid of their ever-present twinkle.<p>

As for Professor Snape, he looked perhaps surprisingly unfazed by the news, however, his attentive reading proved otherwise. Such a twist was...oddly fortunate, too much so in his opinion. All food forgotten, he leaned towards Dumbledore, sat on his left, and whispered to him :

'An odd turn of event, Albus, don't you think? It's all the more curious as...'

But Dumbledore cut him before he could complete his sentence and his tone was sharp ;

'I will look into the matter, Severus. Minerva.' he called, at which the witch gave a slight start. 'I will be away for a short while, make sure that nothing disturbs the normal course of today.'

She nodded curtly at the Headmaster's words, catching the underlying meaning "Do not let Umbridge interfere". The latter was absent for the moment, but she would sooner or later waltz into the Great Hall as if she owned the entire place, she thought in distaste. Minerva hoped it would happen later rather than sooner. She watched Dumbledore leaving at a quick pace, marveling at the headmaster's ludicrous bright purple cloak billowing around his thin figure as he exited the place.

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><p>Back at the Gryffindor table, Harry saw Dumbledore getting up from his seat and walking in the central alley between the Hufflepuff and his house's own. He looked at him expectantly but was met with perfect indifference as the Headmaster hurriedly left the Hall. Not that Harry expected anything else, really, but the professor's disinterest in him left a stinging ache in his chest; childish thoughts crossed the young man's min every time Dumbledore took no notice of him, and this time help a deeper significance than all the other times.<p>

However, why would the Headmaster acknowledge him? They were in the middle of a crowded place, and Dumbledore's playing favourite would be frowned upon indeed. Still, deep, deep down, Harry could not help but wishing the person he had come to think of a surrogate grandfather had nodded at him or even winked, any signs of acknowledgment would have been better than this cool indifference.

Across the seat Harry occupied, Hermione, who had followed the scene, gave his friend a sympathetic look. She knew exactly what was going on in Harry's mind, an orphan who clung like a desperate man to every paternal figures Life has deigned to give him. He needed guidance, he needed it badly, and Dumbledore, along with Sirius, were the only ones available who could provide Harry with proper guidance. It was then not surprising that the old wizard's behaviour hurt his feelings so much.

She shook her head so as to dismiss her thoughts and her mind drifted back to pressing matters :

'Come Harry, we should be heading to Potions class.' she told. 'Breakfast isn't the place to discuss...err today's news.'

Harry turned round and eyed Hermione carefully, catching the message his friend had thrown in his way "We will discuss it in the Room of Requirement". He gathered his school things while Ron, who had been completely oblivious to the exchange, got up from the wooden bench and the other two followed him.

They had an appointment with their dear potions teacher and the Slytherins, in the dungeons, in the damp and cold dungeons.

Oh joy.


	4. Painful News

**Disclaimer : As chapter 2 was quite short, I've decided to post the 3rd chapter a bit earlier than I intended to ;) Chapter 4 should be online next week and chapter 8 is on the way, I now fully intend to see the end of that little writing adventure of mine, god knows how long it's gonna take though :P**

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><p><strong>Painful News<strong>

'Longbottom, for God's sake, do pay attention to what you are doing!' Snape snarled at the nervous boy.

Neville looked up from his cauldron apprehensively. Angering Snape never was a good idea and was usually detrimental to the one who dared to ignite the professor's sharp temper. Today's lesson was about the Strengthening Draught and Neville's potion, who was supposed to be deep purple, was :

'Green, Longbottom, Snape hissed to him, green! Is your incompetence as great as your stupidity? If not, your mess certainly proves me the contrary...'

Snape's insults were but a muffled sound in Harry's ears as he was absentmindedly stirring his potions, which was no better than Neville's; this morning's article still fresh in his mind. Hermione was desperately whispering urgent-sounding instructions to both Harry and Ron, for their potions, especially Ron's, were emanating noxious-looking fumes which promised her two friends no good. And while Harry's face bore a dreamy look, Ron's expressed an intense dismay as to the next ingredients to add to his ruined concoction.

Turning from Neville's cauldron to the other Gryffindor's work, Snape soon reached Harry's seat and the professor's lips curled into a malevolent smirk at the sight of his student's potion. He leaned slighty toward Harry and shouted :

'Potter!'

Harry gave a slight start at his teacher's voice and dropped his stirring rod in the process. Snape's smirk widened as he watched his hated pupil attempting to retrieve his glass rod from where he dropped it. He caught the foolish boy's hand before it could reach the boiling potion, his whole demeanour screaming "Zero for today" at the young student.

Well, at least, Harry knew what to expect as he heard Snape telling him in a decidedly snide tone :

'Why, a zero for today, I think Mr. Potter, along with 15 points from your house for sheer stupidity.'

He sighed imperceptibly as he saw his professor taking his ebony wand from his pocket and waved it over his now-ruined potions. He heard Snape hissing a low "Evanesco" and the concoction vanished into thin air and, turning from Harry's empty cauldron, the teacher turned round to attend to Ron's own work.

Strangely, Snape...peculiar behaviour toward him did not bother him as it usually did, not that it meant that he liked it, really, but today's event had rendered everything more tolerable in Harry's eyes. Even the potions master's spiteful comments. Sirius' possible freedom, for it was what could happen, it was what Harry hope would happen, eclipsed every other thing and potions grade now were the very least of his worries (had it ever been anything else though?). Even Hermione's glare was easy to stand, hope made everything easier to tolerate.

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><p>Severus was internally fuming, a slight headache forming near his left temple. This was the precise reason why he hated, no, why he abhorred teaching at that very moment. While instilling knowledge into hormone-ridden teenagers' thick skulls was a tedious task at best, attempting it with Gryffindors <span>and<span> Slytherins in the same room was nothing short of nightmarish. Teenage incompetence and foolishness, that he was used to, but it gave him no reason to tolerate it in his classroom, especially if the students were playing with dangerous ingredients and _potentially_ lethal mixture. Who was Albus kidding? Severus did not know what got into him when he miraculously (and hazardously) decided to put the two houses together for classes, but he was fairly certain that there was more to it than a forced (and spectacularly failing) inter-houses cooperation. Albus had always thought things through and he was not one to take chances when he could do otherwise.

However, Severus was beginning to seriously questioned the very concept of Houses unity as he watched his nice and oh-thoughtful (insert irony here) Slytherin students throwing random ingredients into their..."fellow" Gryffindors' cauldrons. He was very tempted to attribute the situation to the old man's senility, for all the good it would do.

Nevertheless, today's little event had shown that Albus was all but senile, Pettigrew's capture by the Ministry was very odd indeed. One did not simply stumble upon a man who had been thought dead for more than 14 years, one certainly did not  stumble over this particular Death Eater, the Dark Lord's little rat. Albus surely went to the Ministry to settle the matter and to clear off the somewhat strange circumstances surrounding this lucky capture.

Severus decided it best to leave it to the headmaster for now, the Order would undoubtedly meet to discuss of this new twist, and they would meet, he thought, very soon. He got back to more pressing matters, such as the potions class he was supposed to monitor. And in which his students were unsurprisingly failing, he added to himself. He immediately spotted Longbottom's disastrous attempt along with Potter's vacant expression, eloquent as always, and Weasley's miserable yellow potion.

After successfully berating both Longbottom and Potter, Severus went over to Weasley's cauldron and barely acknowledged Granger's perfect work, muttering a very, very low "Passable" as he passed by her seat. He critically surveyed Weasley's _yellow _brew and he was about to reach for his wand, in order to vanish the pathetic mess his student had the nerve to call "Potion", when he heard a strangled cry of pain and Granger's scream.

'HARRY!'

He sharply turned over only to see Potter, his hands clasped over his forehead, crumbling and hitting hard the dungeons floor. In no time, he was by his student's side and he grabbed the boy's wrists to tear his hand off his face. He did not struggle to the touch but merely stared at his teacher, emerald eyes meeting Severus' obsidian own.

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><p>The pain erupting from his scar was so sudden that, caught off guard, he cried out. The dungeons dissolved into a myriad of dull colours and he soon found himself in a dimly lit room, a very long room with a very high ceiling. The whole place emanating a dark aura. He was sat on a throne-like armchair, dominating every single person present. Bewilderment seized him for one short moment as he realised that his hands were abnormally pale and his skeletal fingers, abnormally thin and long. He was towering over a man dressed in black robes unlike any robes he has ever seen, he was wearing a mask as well, a grim mask made of silver. And he was angry, so very angry. His wand whipping through the air as a red light violently hit the man, his now-writhing body subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.<p>

'How did it happen?'

'M..My Lord, I..I beg for y...your f..f...forgiveness' the servant whimpered.

A scream of rage, another curse, more screams.

Someone was holding him, someone was staring at him. He stared back and flung himself into the depths of the obsidian eyes.

What happened then remained unclear for the both of them, however, Severus saw what Harry saw through Lord Voldemort's merciless eyes. A tortured man, his twisted body shaking badly as his master struck again and again. The dull silver mask flung apart, lying a few feet beside him. A green light erupting from a wand. The Death Eater's now lifeless body slamming into a wall. The ill-concealed terrified glances of those surrounding the master. Fleeing the room. Voldemort's terrible wrath distorting everything.

Severus tore himself out of Harry's mind and, after a moment of astonishment, ordered Ron and Hermione to bring the unconscious student to the Hospital Wing.

Well, it seemed that the Dark Lord had heard the news.


	5. A Colleague' s Visit

**Disclaimer**** : As promised, the 4th chapter. I also would like to thank the two people who subscribed to this story, I suppose they'll recognise themselves, thank you really much ! :) I'm glad that some people seem to take a little interest into what I'm trying to write, imperfect as it is, thanks to those who take the time to actually read the chapters as well! ;)**

**As I'm writing this fiction, the chapter are getting longer and longer, I'm now pretty sure you won't be getting short chapters from now on. ****Anyway, chapter 9 on the way! **

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><p><strong>"A Colleague' s Visit"<strong>

The door slammed after Weasley and Granger, carrying their friend, had left the classroom. The students, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, were very still and silence swept the room. They peered at their teacher, waiting for him to indicate them what to do next, some of the Gryffindors' faces etched with worry for their fellow student. Severus surveyed the whole class, glaring at every person present, as if he dared them to utter anything.

'Get back to your work.' he ordered in an imperious tone which left little room for protestation. 'You have 15 minutes left.'

The students got back to their simmering potions as quickly as they had left them, no one said a word, though the glances they exchanged between themselves did not go unnoticed by Severus. Such a display was sure to feed the rumours circulating about Potter and what really happened would soon be drowned in the many theories idiotic people would come up with. Potter's little press campaign would not benefit from it, on the contrary, mocking comments would only increase in number and the Ministry would blithely contribute to the destruction of a 15 year-old teenager's image, the journalist would be too happy to oblige, undermining Albus' reputation and precious influence in the process.

Potter would be fine and he would undoubtedly recover from his little incursion into the Dark Lord's mind in no time. It had just proved how useless Occlumency lessons were, though, and that Potter was indeed full of surprises. The boy's uncontrolled bout of Legilimency had caught Severus off guard and he had let his defenses down for the tiniest moments, such a slip could be the difference between a living man and a dead body. Carelessness could turn out to be very detrimental to Severus' position and, to a greater extend, to his health. He could not have Potter roaming into the Dark Lord's mind whenever the latter threw a tantrum. That was what Dumbledore and Severus himself worked hard to avoid.

'Class dismissed' Severus suddenly told his students. 'A 3-feet essay about the use of Valeryan Root due for next class, out of my sight. Now.'

Gryffindors and Slytherins quickly gathered their things up and left hurriedly the dreaded classroom without so much as a backward glance. As soon as the room had been deserted, Severus walked at a quick pace toward his office. Once he reached the door, he wordlessly lifted the wards surrounding it with a complicated wave of his wand. He got in and closed the door in a similar manner, he then approached the fireplace. Blue flames were soon happily dancing in the hearth, illuminating the whole place and Severus wasted no time to take a small quantity of what looked like ashes out of a little jar from the mantel. He threw it into the roaring fire and kneeled before the now-emerald green flames on the cobblestoned hard floor. He knew she would be alone at that time of the day, they would not be disturbed. In an assured voice, he shouted :

'Minerva McGonagall's Office, Hogwarts!'

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><p>'Ah, Minerva! The very person I was looking for!'<p>

This falsely sweet voice could only belong to one person, and that person was the very last person Minerva wished to see.

'Why Dolores, what do you want?' Minerva required in a curt tone. 'I am afraid I am quite in a hurry, so please be quick.'

The forced smile Umbridge's face bore vanished instantly at the tone the professor used. She looked at her colleague in a calculating manner for a short before smiling again, though it was an ugly kind of smile, her thick red lips spreading widely and showing her slightly crooked white teeth.

'As Hogwarts Great Inquisitor' Umbridge began, her voice lacking its former girlish quality. 'I am expected to observe every one of fellow teachers' teaching. I trust you already knew it, Minerva, I sent you a note informing of the date and the time of my little inspection a few days ago, you have not answered me yet, I merely wanted to ensure that you were informed of...'

'I did receive your...note, Dolores' Minerva drily answered her. 'And I am well aware of both the date and the time of your...inspection.'

She surveyed her "colleague" (how on earth had Albus been forced into hiring that...woman?) with a glare she usually saved for her troublemaker students, to Umbridge's total obliviousness. She would sooner jump from the top of the Astronomy tower than having that particular boot-licking ministry minion ordering her around. She remembered Dolores Umbridge' s days as a students, in Hufflepuff. Even back then, self-importance and smugness oozed from her detestable being. She had been an average student, without any special talents, safe for her nauseating demeanour which earned her the distaste of some and the favours of others. The latter development, though, amazed Minerva almost as much as it revolted her.

'If you will excuse me Dolores, I have work to do, she said in dismissal.'

Minerva turned on her heels and made her way toward her office, lips pursed and eyes flashing. Very few things managed to aggravate her, and, to her great irritation, "Professor" Umbridge was one of them. She sighed and went over to her desk, covered with paperwork and students' essays to mark; Albus would not be back before several hours and tedious matters that had to be taken care of were delegated to her as long as the Headmaster was away. For the next two hours, she filled various forms and wrote several letters without any interruption, but her work was disturbed as green flames flared up in the fireplace across her oak desk and the head of her colleague appeared amidst the fire.

She got her from her heavily carved wooden chair and went over to speak to Severus Snape, another one of her former students. Although this one had exceeded both her best and worst expectations she had set up for him at school. She clearly remembered the sullen eleven-year old child who set foot into the castle for the first time of his life, his eyes shining with ill-concealed amazement as he allowed himself to marvel at the magic of the place he found himself in.

The same dark eyes were looking at her, but they were very different from those who once belonged to the boy Severus used to be. Devoid of any warmth, they were a mere reflection of the man, windows to a darkened soul that had isolated itself from the ones surrounding him.

She leaned on so as to facilitate the communication between them, and once they were both as comfortable as they could be when one was using the Floo network, Minerva was the one to speak up first :

'Severus' she greeted him. 'Has anything happened?'

A frowned barred the Potions master's hard features.

'Potter happened, Minerva' he told her. 'He entered the Dark Lord's mind, or the Dark Lord entered his, during Potions Class, he is now in the Hospital Wing and supposedly still unconscious.'

Minerva's brows flew up, while it was expected that Potter was subjected to more of those visions, he had never received one during classes.

'And you think it is related to Peter Pettigrew's capture?' She inquired.

'It has all to do with Pettigrew's capture, Minerva, that is more than obvious since the Dark Lord is kept informed of everything at any time' Severus disparagingly said. 'I just need to make sure that Albus knows about it as soon as possible and the means of communication I use with him are not exactly...risk-free and if anyone must be seen informing him of Potter's...condition, it must not be me.'

Minerva nodded at him, silently promising him to do as he asked.

'Thank you, Minerva.'

On these words, Severus' head disappeared from the hearth and the bright green fire died out, faint sparks glowering dimly for a few moments before darkness consumed them.

Minerva immediately applied herself to the task she had just been assigned.


	6. Blasted Teenage Pride

**Disclaimer : Chapter 5 on line, Chapter 11 on the way! ;) Thanks everyone for reading, and thanks to the person who added this fiction to his/her favourite! :)**

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><p><strong>"Blasted Teenage Pride"<strong>

The Hospital Wing was not exactly the students' favourite place in the castle, and for obvious reasons. Some students, however, found themselves lying in one of the beds without much recollections as to _how _they ended up there in the first place, there were not many such students and Harry was one of them. One could even go as far as telling that Madam Pomfrey had one specific bad she kept for his frequent visit, this bed was the second one on the left when one entered the place.

And thus, Harry woke up in the second bad on the left, near the Hospital Wing entrance from what he thought to be a very uneasy sleep. He lazily opened one eye to assess his surroundings. As he noticed that the sun was low in the sky, he knew that he must have been out for quite a while. His robes were lying on the bed next to his and he only wore the shirt and the trousers of his school uniform. He blinked twice and motioned to get his glasses resting on the bedside table. In no time, Madam Pomfrey reached his side and immediately clasped her hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

- Well, well, you gave you friends quite a scare, Mr. Potter, she said, I haven't seen you in here this year, I would have liked to keep it this way, but trouble always catches you up, does it? she sighed, you can't always get what you want, I suppose.

Harry frowned at the greeting, but eventually shrugged it off since he knew that the matron's legendary fussing would cease if he was quiet during her examination. She ran her wand over his body and a comfortable warmth enveloped him for a moment. The spell then gave off a pale blue light and, as quickly as it came, the warmth dissipated, leaving Harry slighty shuddering from the sudden change of temperature. However, Harry took it as a good sign as Madam Pomfrey did not cast any other examination spells.

Suddenly, everything came back to Harry, namely his little excursion into Voldemort's mind and his terrible, terrible anger. Harry had his idea as to what was the cause of his wrath, but such an extreme reaction was surprising, to say the least. It seemed that there was more to Pettigrew's capture than sheer dumb luck on the Ministry's part, he would tell Hermione and Ron about it as soon as he got to see them, which would be, in all likeliness, very soon. Ron and Hermione, Harry realised for the first time since he woke up, were absent and very worried according to Madam Pomfrey. As soon as she told him that he was free to go but ordered him to "take it easy", to which Harry rolled his eyes (you would think she knew by now that "taking it easy" was not an option when your full name was Harry I-attract-trouble Potter), he went to find his friends.

It was 5 o'clock, the lessons were over and flows of students invaded Hogwarts' corridor, heading to their respective common room before dinner, and the most logical place to find Ron and Hermione, Harry decided, was the Gryffindor's common room. He ascended the great stairs quickly, some students throwing him glances over their shoulder as he passed by them and others eying him warily; he soon found himself before the common room entrance, guarded by the Fat Lady, to whom he gave the password to gain access and engulfed into the Gryffindor population's sanctuary. It was still empty at the moment, safe from a small group of seventh years Harry did not recognised, but he spotted Ron and Hermione, seated on the squashed and worn-out armchairs the three of them usually occupied. He walked to them and the both of them smiled warmly at him in relief. He sat on the armchair next to Hermione's.

- You've been out for hours, mate! We thought you were going to spent the night at the Hospital Wing, Ron told him in an uncertain voice, what happened then? His tone betraying worry as the memory of his father's attack emerged and danced in front of his mind.

- He is...very, very angry, Harry answered, his puzzlement clearly visible to his friends' eyes. He's never been that angry...

- Well, Hermione and I have thought that it must've been something like that, I mean, and Ron's voice dropped to a whisper as he went on, it's not like you've already passed out from one of these visions he sends you.

- Nah, Harry replied absentmindedly, no, I suppose it was about Pettigrew. Can't be too happy with his precious Death Eather's being caught, can he?

Hermione bit her lower lips.

- But Harry, don't you find it...odd that it was Pettigrew and not another Death Eater? Why would Voldemort, Ron flinched and Hermione blithely ignored it, be so angry about... about it, she finished lamely as a flow of Gryffindor students entered the common room.

Of course, this was exactly what Harry was thinking back in the Hospital Wing, however, voicing these thoughts aloud rendered this little riddle more complicated than it already was. Harry had only focused on Sirius' possible freedom before Voldemort's sudden anger, but if the latter's behaviour was any indication, Pettigrew's capture would turn out to be a complicated matter, and complicated matters would only slow any trial process for his godfather. Dread began to fill Harry's thoughts, his godfather could not remain the way he was, Pettigrew was the key to his freedom, Dumbledore could not fail to untangle the mystery behind this new twist, or Sirius would suffer from it. He would go to see the headmaster and beg him on bending knees if he had to; his godfather was more important that his blasted teenage pride.

As he considered this options, a new element sprang forwards his mind, a quote from this morning's article "_**This case will certainly be investigated by the competent authorities to determine the precise roles of the two formers friends in You-Know-Who's ranks before his downfall."**_

Harry swallowed as a lump was forming in his throat, and his voice was choked by emotions when he told Ron and Hermione :

- The...the Ministry intend to frame Sirius as Pettigrew's accomplice, remember the article? They'll never admit that they were wrong about Sirius, they just want him chucked back to Azkaban as soon as possible! He finished, despair creeping in him.

- Dumbledore will try his best to stop that, Harry! Hermione told him, Sirius didn't even had a trial, Dumbledore will use that argument.

Harry looked at her desperately.

- Harry, began Hermione, you must know that every wizard has the right to a fair hearing, I heard Moody told Lupin once, and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban without so much as a trial, which isn't surprising really given the confusion after Voldemort's disappearance...

- Well, Dumbledore didn't bother to get him one, did he? Harry said bitterly, his resentment towards the Headmaster springing up.

- Harry, what I'm trying to say is that...

Hermione's voice was muffled by the ring of the bell, announcing that dinner was served in the Great Hall. She looked at Harry and Ron, and finally said :

- We'll talk about it in the...hmm R.o.R, she mouthed to them.

They both nodded at her and got up, making their way to the Great Hall.


	7. A Meeting

**Disclaimer : Here is chapter 6 ;) Although I really would like to hear your opinions about the story so far, may they be positive or negative, getting no feedback whatsoever is pretty discouraging.**

**Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! ;) Thanks to anyone who take the time to read! :)**

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><p><strong>"A Meeting"<strong>

"Albus, what's this Pettigrew business all about? Tuesday's newspaper...

- I am very well aware of today's news, Sirius, and I am working on it. Dumbledore said in a final tone.

Grimmauld's Place was as sinister-looking as ever, great spiders webs hanging from the imposing chandelier of the entrance hall, a grim magic floating in the air. The Black family's practice of Dark magic coated the whole house, even decades after their deaths, and such traces proved to be hard to remove. It therefore did nothing to improve Sirius' brooding mood, being locked in Mummy-dearest's house was not enough, no, his family's despicable presence had to ooze from the very walls of the decrepit place.

To say that the news of Pettigrew's capture came as a surprise was the understatement of the week, Sirius practically was bouncing from his seat when he saw the newspaper's headlines that day and he had been waiting for Dumbledore to make an appearance for 3 days, only to be welcomed with the condescending tone the headmaster usually used with his first-year students. Displeased was not the right adjective to describe Sirius' reaction to Albus' greeting.

But the younger man's discontent soon vanished : the Order had been summoned, the meeting would start soon and Dumbledore was the first to arrive in the kitchen, the tables rearranged for the coming gathering. He was followed by Mad-Eye Moody, along with Tonks, whose extravagant pink hair brightened the place (and that was why Tonks was Sirius' favourite cousin, not that he had many cousins he actually _liked_, to start with.). Moody's face had the reverse effect, his gaunt and heavily scarred face adding a nice little touch of sinister to the room, if that was even possible; the Auror and its protégée were as different as night and day, althought everyone knew that the older man had a soft spot for Tonks, something he would of course never admit.

More members arrived, settling on the chairs set up around the old table, McGonagall, wearing a dark green tartan cloak, soon followed by Molly, Arthur and Bill. Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the kitchen in his ever-calm demeanour, and was tailed by Emmeline Vance and Remus Lupin, who smiled knowingly to Sirius. Severus "Snivellus" Snape was the last to arrive.

As soon as everyone was settled, Albus wasted no time to start the meeting :

- Good evening to you all, I am quite sure I do not have to remind you the topic of today's meeting, he said in a domineering voice few had ever heard, I had waited a few days to summon the Order, as you very well know, our moves are...monitored at Hogwarts and it seemed wiser to wait for the week-end, we thus attract less suspicion from, shall we say, undesirable parties.

Severus and Minerva's almost imperceptible nods confirms the Headmaster's assessment.

- Peter Pettigrew's capture could raise more issues than it could solve, Albus announced, and what appeared to be a...ah, lucky capture is clouded with circumstances that we could considered as strange, as you all already knew I am sure, it is all the more curious as Peter is known to never leave Voldemort's sides.

Albus went on, reminding the people present of facts most of them already knew, details that Severus' recent reports had provided. After a moment, silence fell upon the members, pondering on Albus' speech.

- If I may headmaster, Severus intervened in a quiet voice, and at Albus' nod, he went on, Pettigrew is never sent to complete any mission that I know of, he was constantly in the Dark Lord's headquarters. Whoever managed to capture him could not have done so without breaking into his hideout, facing a dozen Death Eaters who constantly guard the place and possibly stumbling upon the Dark Lord himself. Extracting Pettigrew in particular from the place, in these conditions is next to impossible.

- Pettigrew was not captured by Aurors, Kingsley added, and I doubt the Magical Squad could have achieved such a feat, the Auror Department was as bewildered as everyone else was. I did not see Pettigrew, but I know he is incarcerated in the Ministry cells. However, it does not tell much about how he ended up into the Ministry's claws in the first place.

- Cornelius proved to be most uncooperative when I went to the Ministry, I talked to Rufus Scrimgeour, who had been unable to tell me much more about Peter's capture, Amelia Bones, however, is one of the few who had access to information surrounding this event. She could not be present today, pressing matters prevented her to come, but what she told me was very odd indeed. Peter was not captured properly speaking, he was found in the Ministry itself, late into the night.

Many brows flew up at this assertion.

- He was neutralised at once, of course, but he did not give much resistance according to the file Amelia provided me and he was already bounded, or more likely, already unconscious. He has not woken yet, and the Healers who examined him declare that he is unlikely to wake before several days.

He frowned even further as he told the little assembly :

- The results of said-examination strike me as equally curious, Peter is said to be largely unresponsive to any stimulus, his organism has shut down and his health is more than precarious. While continuous proximity to Voldemort usually proves to be detrimental to anyone's health...

Severus mentally snorted at this, if his scars were any indication, "detrimental" was a poor way to describe the effect of what Albus called a "continuous proximity to Voldemort".

- Peter should not be in such a decrepit state. I have not seen him for my own eyes, either, but I am working on the issue and I trust I soon will be granted access to the cell he is kept in.

Silence fell again, the members of the Order were exchanging glances, such a development was...unexpected. Arthur spoke up :

- You think of...an attack, Albus? While many people would have many reason to attack Pettigrew...

Sirius did not bother to hide the incredulous look he threw to Arthur, but the latter, noticing it, decided to ignore it.

- One does not stumble upon that particular Death Eater, so unless Pettigrew escaped You-Know-Who's headquarters and found himself into the Ministry's hands, this whole business hides something bigger.

- Escaped, or sent on a mission Severus did not hear of, Molly said, who threw a pointed look at Severus.

- I am not frequently summoned during the school term, I cannot afford disappearing every two or three days, as you already know I am sure, Molly, Severus replied her, his tone dripping with ill-concealed impatience, I am not privy of every coming and going of every Death Eater.

His glare deterred everyone from questioning him, he might be spying on the Dark Lord and considered a high-ranked follower, which was a great advantage for the Order, but he was not the megalomaniac's little _confidant_.

- However, Pettigrew's capture may be a great asset, as I remember, he has heard and he has been told many things. Mucking about the Dark Lord's hideout can be very informative, and I am quite sure that he knows a great deal that we do not know of.

- It is a likely possibility, Severus, I must concede to it, Albus answered it, nevertheless, it will have to wait, as long as I have not met Peter, we cannot jump to hasty conclusion. Our policy in this matter cannot rely on guesswork. Amelia is doing her best to hasten the procedure and she will definitely try to grant you a trial, Sirius, he turned to Sirius, his eyes not quite meeting the younger man's own.

Finally, the words he had been waiting for, the words he had craved to hear ever since he heard about the filthy rat's capture. The keys to his long-awaited freedom, his life finally took another turn, it had claimed more than 12 years of his life, but at last, Fate was smiling to him.

He nodded enthusiastically at Dumbledore, his eyes alight with hope. He could bear another few months in this hellish place if it meant that he would soon be free of charges.

Dumbledore's lips stretched into a smile, but it was no match to Remus' own grin, whose white teeth were bared.

- I will keep you informed of the evolution of this matter, we will meet again very soon, I expect, until then, I wish you all a pleasant evening, announced Albus, his dismissing tone betraying an ounce of amusement as he watched the two friends' exchange.

As one, the members' face suddenly lost all traces of seriousness, exchanging pleasantries with one another. This meeting had been a short one, it was therefore not surprising to see people lingering a bit and discussing over a glass of elf-wine Sirius had got out the cellar.

Severus was not one to linger, though, he hated small talk and the friendly atmosphere overtaking the kitchen sickened him. He only stayed out of respect for Albus, and for Minerva as well, though he thought that would be taking it a bit too far. He only poured himself one glass of wine and sipped it slowly, his face showed no emotions, his mask was firmly in place, as it always was. Although, his solitary drinking party was abruptly cut off when his left forearms burned, a signal he would have rather liked to ignore, but his second master was summoning him, and disregarding it would turn out to be painful. So, he was the first to leave, ignoring everyone and everyone equally ignoring him, safe for Dumbledore, who watched the Potions Master leaving the house, his great black robes billowing around his thin figure, his hand rubbing his painful forearm, and disappearing into the night as he closed the entrance door behind him.


	8. Take Heed of Me

**Disclaimer : Chapter 7 on line, chapter 12 on the way. The plot is thickening slowly, but it will eventually get more interesting. Thanks for reading everyone! ;)**

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><p><strong>"Take Heed of Me"<strong>

Curious, thought Harry as he turned over in his bed, how things could change so quickly, events catching up with you and soon out of reach, out of control. These last three days had been erratic, for Harry and for the other students of the school, for Pettigrew's capture had cast doubt over everyone's mind, when a man miraculously came back from the dead and coincidently ended up into the Ministry's hands, there were no certitude anymore, there were nothing to rely on. The wizarding world was completely nonplussed by the sudden reappearance of a man they had praised and thought as a hero and every newspaper (even the Quibbler, Harry heard from Luna) covered the Pettigrew case, each emitting various theories, some as farfetched as it could possibly be, others closer to the actual truth. Journalists had had a wild field, and this would not stop there, not until Pettigrew was interrogated.

Such a turn of event proved quite favourable to Harry, people started to doubt, he thought, and doubt would be his greatest ally, Hermione told him, and Sirius' as well. For uncertainty around his godfather's actual guilt had started to arise from many, if the Ministry was wrong about Pettigrew, the Ministry could be wrong about Sirius Black as well, the Ministry could be wrong about Dumbledore, the Ministry could be wrong about Harry, and ultimately, the Ministry could be wrong about Voldemort. Acknowledging publicly Voldemort's return would only be a matter of time, and the headlines would soon read "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is Back!" (Harry silently snorted at this, the ludicrous nickname Voldemort had been given sounded more ridiculous than ever).

However, before this relatively "happy" event, Harry's treatment by his fellow students had not exactly improved, and precisely because of last Tuesday's vision he had during Potions class. Even though he had endured the many fearful glances thrown his way and the nasty comments people whispered to each other last year, this year had proved to be drastically worse and now was the worst Harry could have hoped to never experience. Students now did not hesitate to tell what they thought of him, and even went as far as confronting him in the corridors. Something which had not happened before, for people did not dare to approach him, they probably thought he carried some highly contagious illness, Harry thought derisively, but Pettigrew's capture had also brought fear, almost imperceptibly so. The realisation of Voldemort's now-very possible return had dawned on most people, and the dread of such a tangible possibility had created an atmosphere of fear, and fear drove people to act irrationally. In which case, people desperately needed some kind of scapegoat, an outlet, and Harry was the perfect man for the job, since he had been the one screaming at the top of his lung "You-Know-Who" ' s return at the end of the Third Task; he also was conveniently close, to his greatest displeasure.

Harry puffed soundly, mentally cursing people' stupidity, and turned over _again_ in his bed. He had been unable to find sleep, and he felt that sleep would not come to him that night, he was grateful that it was the week-end, so that he would not have to stagger through his lessons half-asleep and about as active as a flobberworm. He could not detach himself from what happened this week, his mind racing with all the theories he had discussed with Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore, to whom Harry desperately wanted to talk to, mainly about Sirius, also had not given any sign of acknowledgement, a behaviour that had, once again, deterred Harry from going near the old wizard's office. Sirius had not sent any news either, Harry thought bitterly. Granted, the owl traffic was watched, but Sirius was smart enough to slither around this kind of regulation, and Harry needed news from his godfather, his silence did not suit the young man in the slightest and constantly irritated him. He had been waiting all the week for some kind of notes, from anyone, even from Lupin, who had not bothered to contact him either and who probably thought that Harry would have been kept informed through his godfather.

He was tired to wait, even for a more few days, he wanted to get some kind of information, and he would get them himself. He tore his bed sheets from his scrawny figure and got out of bed, dressed in Dudley's old outcast he used as pygamas. He went to open his truck, rummaging through its content to retrieve ink and parchment, and he soon found himself downstairs in the common room. He settled down on one of the armchair near the empty fireplace, and began to write a letter he intended to send to his godfather. He carefully choose his words, thinking back of how Hedwig came back last time he had corresponded with Sirius, and only after the letter was written in a satisfying way did he went upstairs, this time, to get his dad's old invisibility cloak. He moved towards the common room entrance, his letter clutched in his hand, and pushed open the Fat Lady portrait, who was soundly asleep. "Tell me about protecting the Gryffindor Tower" Harry thought as he watched her, slightly bemused.

And thus, Harry was out for a night stroll. He walked in the silent corridors, only enlightened by sparse torch, casting the monstrous shadows of the rusted armours on the walls. There was not a soul in sight, and this suited Harry just fine. Being invisible, it seems, was the only way for him to avoid the accusing glares regularly sent on his way, and this moment of loneliness allowed him a short respite from his peers, and from his friends as well, whose looks of worry started to unnerve him. Roaming in the castle at night was thrilling, but roaming in the castle at night _and_ invisible was nothing short of exciting. Harry was spending his fifth year there, and the castle never ceased to amaze him, it was his home, it was the place he knew he belonged to, and it was a place that held many secrets that even Dumbledore had not discovered yet.

He made his way towards the Owlery first and soon wished he had brought a sweater with him, for the cold was bitter and the wind was blowing through the thin fabric of his Dudley's old clothes, biting his skin. He woke Hedwig up and urged her toward him so that he could tie the letter to her leg. He stroke her white feathers with clear fondness, reminiscing of the day Hagrid got her for his eleventh birthday, but soon let her go, her pale blurry shape fading as she was flying away to London. He sighed, suddenly wishing he had taken his broom for a night ride, but remembered that his Firebolt still was locked in Umbridge's office. His shoulders fell in defeat but pulled himself together as he thought it was time to get back to the Gryffindor Tower, he then turned on his heels and made his way back to the common room. He lingered a bit, though, he did not want to be back too soon, because he knew that if he tried to sleep, his dreams would be plagued with nightmares or visions his dark wizard pal would send him, and hanging around the common room for hours was not Harry's idea of a good night.

He could wander in the corridor for another hour or two, no one would notice, not even Ron. If he woke up and actually looked at Harry's bed to check whether he was still there or not, he would only see the curtains drawn, and his friend, probably thinking Harry would be asleep, would look no further; yes, exploring definitely was an option tonight.

Where to go first, though? There were many places at Hogwarts and only a small part of them was inhabited, according to Hermione. Perhaps there were other secret passages the Marauders' Map did not show, after all, no one really knew all of Hogwarts' secrets, Harry thought.

He would start with the first floor.

He crossed the strip of land separating the Owlery from the castle rapidly and entered into it, shivering from head to toes, he definitely should have brought a sweater, he told himself as he turned around to get to the main stairs. He proceeded noiselessly, his presence a mere whisper as the magic of the ancient building seeped into the air. It was only by night, when all noises were tuned off, that one could fully appreciate Hogwarts' real magic, a raw and quiet power cementing all the parts of the castle together that had permitted the school to perpetuate through centuries. Few students ever experimented it, for few students ventured out of their common room at night and the real measure of Hogwarts' magic would forever be lost on them, but Harry belonged to the lucky ones. He could almost be lulled by the this quiet power, residing into the castle's very stone.

But Harry's daydreaming was interrupted when he saw a dull silver glimmer, oddly familiar, faintly shining in the darkness lying before him. He frowned and his heart almost missed a beat as he suddenly remembered where he had already seen it. He took a sharp breath as he watched what looked like a Death Eater walking toward him, without seeing him though.

The man was dressed in heavy black robes embroidered with fine silver thread in a complicated pattern, and he was holding a mask similar to the one Harry had seen in his latest vision, an ugly mask, grimacing into the void.

Thoughts raced in Harry's mind, wildly wondering how on earth a Death Eater could have got into the castle without anyone noticing, and he was about to draw his wand from his pocket when he realised that he knew this man.

It was Professor Snape.

Although, it was not the teacher students saw and despised on a daily basis, no, this man's features were hardened by the determination etched on his sallow face and his eyes showed nothing but quiet resignation. He was looking straight ahead of him, totally focused on whatever goal he wanted to see accomplished and he did not pay the slightest attention to his surroundings. Harry could have been standing naked in the middle of the corridor, he was not sure Snape would have noticed him, he was not keen on finding out the answer to that question though, so he remained silent as the Potions Master walked past him.

Once Snape' s steps had faded, Harry decided not to explore tonight, he would leave that to another day, and he hurried to get back to his common room, quickly climbing the marble steps.

He knew for a fact that Snape was a spy, he had never lingered on it though because the both of them were too absorbed by their mutual dislike, but seeing it, dressed as a Death Eater, for his own eyes troubled him, reminiscing of the night Voldemort returned, his servants stood there, in the graveyard, and were laughing hard as their master tortured a teenage boy. Snape could easily have been one of them, back then, and the thought only disturbed him even further.

Seeing Snape this way should not have had such an effect on Harry, but a slight worry crept through him, for what awaited the professor was something Harry constantly tried to avoid thinking about. As the (very tangible) possibility of Snape being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse sprang up in his mind, he felt sorry, almost grudgingly so, for his teacher. He did not even know whether he truly trusted the man or not, he certainly did not like him, but Harry was sure about one thing that night:

He felt sorry for Snape.


	9. How Can I Live My Life?

**Disclaimer : Eighth chapter online, I haven't typed up chapter 12 yet, because real life (and university) is catching up on me, but you can be reasonably sure that the publishing rate won't be much disturbed. Thanks to everyone who happen to read it! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>"How can I live my life when my whole being cries?"<strong>

The kitchen table was strewn with empty bottles and Sirius was slowly dozing off on one of the chairs and sat across Remus, who was eying him with something akin to disapprobation. Sirius blinked stupidly, his drunken face relaxed into a lazy smile, and looked around him, his glance stopping on insignificant things in the room.

The Order meeting had been over for a bit more than one hour, and the only person who had decided to stay overnight was Remus. Aah, Moony, Sirius thought fondly as he saw his friend's face through the haze his heavy drinking had cast over his sight, his dear wolfy wolfy faithful and steady friend, always one for a bit of fun. Sirius giggled loudly at this train of thought, Remus' disapproval deepening as he motioned toward the last full bottle on the table.

Remus was quicker though, he snatched the wine bottle out of his reach and hastily got up to put it away, far from his friend's glass. Sirius frowned at that gesture, as he always did whenever Remus was present during one of his little drinking parties.

- Daaaaamn you, Remy, give me that back, he grunted, trying to get up from his chair but dangerously swaying on his feet as he tried to stand still.

Remus arched an eyebrow at his behaviour, clearly unimpressed by his drunken state.

- To have you drinking yourself to death? He inquired sharply.

Sirius heavily fell back into his chair, clasping his hand over his ears the same way a stubborn child would do, pretending he had not heard what his parents had just told him. He pointed his friend at Remus, opened his mouth to retort but failed miserably to utter a word. His hands dropped on his lap, in defeat, and he endeavoured to stare at his hand, doing his best to ignore the other man's presence and the piercing glare that was sent his way.

The silence stretched on for long minutes, during which Sirius turned his hand over his lap, examining each crack on his prematurely-aged fingers. When he finally looked up, Remus had not moved an inch.

- I thought, he spoke up, that you would've broken your little habit, especially given the circumstances.

- Wha-a-a-at circumstances Moony? Dumbly' s promise of getting a trial? Ooh big deal, indeed, I don't remember him lifting a finger for me last time.

Oh, we are walking down a dangerous path, Remus thought, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up in his chest.

- No Sirius, Remus said, I was talking about Harry.

There, the magic word : Sirius' focus was now fully on him, the drunk man's frustration forgotten.

- You've realised that Harry could go into your custody and could permanently live with you?

Sirius nodded frantically.

- And you've realised that you couldn't give Harry a godfather with a bad drinking habit?

Remus was brutally honest, and he knew his friend would soon react with his usual harshness whenever he was drunk, but some sense had to knocked into his thick skull. Sirius had picked up on the habit six months ago, when Dumbledore had basically locked him off in his mother's house, the last place, after Azkaban, Sirius wanted to be locked in. It therefore was not surprising that he drowned his worries and doubt into alcohol, but Remus was hoping that dragging Harry into the conversation would have a positive effect on him. He knew just how much Sirius cared about Harry, just how much Harry meant to him, and just how much Sirius meant to Harry. He would not have this ruined by Sirius' fondness for alcohol, because Remus cared about Harry about as much as he did, and if harshness was the condition to ensure the young man's wellbeing, then so be it.

And there was also Dumbledore, Dumbledore who, as Sirius told it, had not lifted a finger all these years ago, when he was chucked into Azkaban without so much as a trial. Remus had not done anything, either, and that thought tormented him even since Sirius had been discovered innocent, but it was something that was never, _ever_ mentioned when the both of them were in the same room. A concealed wound, solidly bandaged but still bleeding, that the both of them refused to acknowledge, for they were afraid of what it could mean, of the unfixable damage it could do to them. They merely ignored it, walked past it, doing their best not to consider it, but it cruelly taunted them, it stuck its tongue at them, defying them to bring it up, to expose what had been concealed for too long.

Remus refused to believe that Dumbledore's mistake about Sirius was more than, well, a mistake from his part, he did not want to believe that Sirius' trip in Azkaban had been a part of the Headmaster 's plan for Harry' s custody. The notion nagged him though, he had not shared this with Dumbledore, and knew that doing so would be a very idea, but it was dragging him deeper and deeper into doubt.

Sirius' glance turned blank as he heard his friend' s words, the quiet truth intoned into the vast kitchen was teasing him, he knew Remus was right, he knew that he should break the habit, he knew that procrastination would lead him nowhere, he knew he had to try, he knew all these things, but he had no will left, Azkaban had left him bereft of it, it had taken too great a toll on him. These twelve years had almost utterly broken him, many pieces were still lying around him and he was unable to pick them up, completely powerless to glue his life back together.

Remus' words had spoken a truth he had been concealing for too long.

Their conversation did not go any further, for Remus felt that all that had to be said was said; he got up and threw a last look at Sirius. He was staring at the wall, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Remus exited the kitchen, leaving Padfoot to his thoughts, something that, hopefully, would change things for the better.

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><p>"How disappointing Severus, I...expected more"<p>

A wand whipped the air and muffled cries of pain resounded through the immense place.

A pause. A long pause, during which only the man's panting breath could be heard.

But the Dark Lord's wand slashed again. And again.

He lowered his wand, eying the man lying at his feet with utter indifference. A pathetic sight to behold, a shaking mess, an ugly puppet, a useless servant, or so he then thought.

He watched him struggling to get back to his initial position, blood-red eyes reflecting nothing but pure disdain. He was disappointed, very disappointed indeed.

No one among his ranks had been able to inform him about Wormtail' s escape and capture, about how the unintelligent and untalented rat miraculously ended up into the Ministry's claws. Not even Lucius. It threatened everything, it jeopardised what he had been trying to build for the last six months.

As his spy, he had thought that Severus would have been able to provide him with useful information, as Dumbledore's "trusted" spy, Severus should have heard more about this unfortunate turn of event.

He was severely displeased with Severus, oh very much so indeed.

"You will make sure that Dumbledore does not gain access to Wormtail' s mind, failure will not be tolerated."

The underlying warning was clear.

- Yes, my Lord, Severus' coarse voice intoned.

Kneeling before his much-detested master, his hand was still badly shaking from the curse he received only moments ago. His head was bowed, black locks of hair limply hanging in front of his eyes, in a position of surrounding, so unlike the man that one usually saw. Sweat dripped from his ashen face, twisted in a grotesque grimace of pain, and he was panting heavily, for the Dark Lord's punishment took a toll on any healthy person.

Severus eyed carefully his master's wand, ready to undergo any treatment he would receive at his unforgiving hand, his occlumency shields, firm in place, would not sway.

The blow did not take him by surprise as he found himself flung onto the hard ground, again, his limbs writhing under the influence of the Cruciatus Curse, white hot knives of pain piercing every inch of his skin.

It stopped as suddenly as it came, leaving a leaping mess of a man lying on the ground, a shell clad in black robes, revealing to the world entire the miserable condition of Severus Snape, spy extraordinaire, tortured by one of his master on a regular basis, as were every fool who entered into Lord Voldemort' s service. All pride was then forgotten, all frailties, all weaknesses, all vices displayed at last, the darkest aspect of human nature brutally exposed to those watching, a harsh truth that was beheld by few. A truth that was silenced by most, for it killed all the others, as punishments were handed out by their unforgiving leader. Pain was their punishment and their reward, pain was part of their lives, an old friend fully embracing them every time any of them failed to meet the expectation set up by the Dark Lord.

He was unforgiving, and disappointment was the match igniting the wizard' s wrath, to Severus' misery as he stroke again.

* * *

><p>Pacing in his office, Albus was waiting, waiting for Severus to return, waiting for him to get back home. Each meeting stirred up the Headmaster's worries and his stomach was reduced to a tight knot as he watched the hands running over the clock placed on the mantel.<p>

They were walking on a very thin line, failure was not an option, it had never been and it would never be.

Dread was slowly filling him as the hours passed. Two hours, three hours, three hours and a half...

He was waiting.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, an emerald-green light, a faint moan, the sound of a man hitting the ground, a tangled mess of hair, mated with sweat and blood.<p>

Confusion. Pain.

"You are safe"

Someone was holding him. Someone was talking to him. A touch. A voice. He held onto it.

"Your are home, Severus"

Piercing blue eyes. Glinting with concern. Albus.

And then, nothing.


	10. Reality

**Disclaimer :** **New chapter up ;) I finished typing chapter 13 a bit earlier today, I'll get chapter 14 started a bit later. You should get to read the next chapter tuesday, or wednesday, I now have a regular publishing pattern, as some of you must have notice ;) **

**_En passant_, I would like to precise one little fact : writing a 2,000 words long chapter takes me up to several hours (checking for language mistakes mainly, problems with the writing style, contradiction I might have created etc.), a time I might not always be able to spare, so there will be some weeks during which I will not be able to keep up with the two-chapter-a-week pattern. Although, considering that I study english at university, it is quite unlikely, and every time I find myself unable to publish a chapter, I'll make a point of mentioning it somewhere.**

**I'd like to thank those who added this little story to their favourites, as well as the two people who had been kind enough to leave a review!**

**I'm going to answer one of the reviews here : I do intend to make the relationship between Harry and Severus evolve; however, while the Severus Snape I write about here is somewhat "softer" than his counterpart in J.K Rowling's books, I view him as a highly unpleasant character, capable of measured humanity, stubborn as hell and unable to let the past go, the man lives in the past, his situation is a constant reminder of it, should there be any mentor relationship between Harry and Snape, it would be a painfully long process. Although I haven't planned ****out ****all the details just yet, so there's room for the unexpected ;)**

**Thanks for reading everyone and enjoy!**

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><p>"<strong><em>If one doesn't talk about a thing, it has never happened. It is simply expression that gives reality to things.<em>**"

_Oscar Wilde_

Draco's sleep was interrupted by a particularly loud snore from Goyle, he groaned and glanced at the clock; it read 7.30. Not very early then, and if Goyle's snore was any indication, Draco was the only one who was not sleeping in this dormitory and, considering it was a week-end day, it was no wonder that no one was up just yet. He let out a small irritated sigh, cursing his dorm mate for his untimely interruption, and decided to not linger in bed, even though he would have liked to doze off a bit. He silently grabbed clothes from his trunk at the foot of his bed, rummaging through the content for a moment before picking a green shirt and black trousers, and went to the bathroom, his eyes still red and puffy from sleep and his white-blonde hair messier than anyone had ever seen it.

He quickly took his shower, the water wiping away all traces of tiredness that had lingered on his face, and hastily put on his clothes while he carefully examined his reflection on the nearest mirror, as if to determine whether it would satisfy his father' s requirement about his son' s appearance. Not that he was obsessed with it, he just knew how much appearance could matter to other people and it could be the factor which made a difference between success and failure in business. It was not out of sheer vanity that he paid such a special attention to his looks, or so Draco liked to tell himself.

He then proceeded to flatten his hair upon his skull, using the magical lotion he had been using for years. It was little Draco' s morning routine, the one his father had made it a point to teach him, for keeping the appearances up was important, and this was the concept he had been drilling through his son' s head ever since he was born. According to Lucius Malfoy, "no proper wizard should show himself in public looking as if he has just been brawling in a stinking pub", well perhaps this was not the exact wording his father used, but it was close enough, Draco reckoned.

He exited the bathroom without further thought and went over to his bed noiselessly, so that he would not wake up his dorm mates (and if he was quite honest with himself, he did not want to have Crabbe and Goyle dogging his steps just yet), and he threw a cloak over his shoulders, an richly embroidered cloak and an expensive one too, just like many things he possessed, and promptly left the Slytherin dormitories.

He was greeted by the gloomy green glow constantly bathing the common room, adding a nice little touch of sinister to the already quite grim place. A few students were up, and they were scattered here and there, some whispering to each other over the black-wood table near the cracking fireplace while others were playing a lazy game of chess. No one paid attention to him as he walked by them, for which Draco was secretly glad, but he paid a particular attention to those present, so that he knew who was there and who was not there. He would greet those he had to greet later; staying in people' good books was not his utmost priority this morning, and decorum could wait one hour or two, he decided. He threw one last lazy glance over his shoulder and quietly left the Slytherin sanctuary for the cold and poorly-lit dungeons.

He shivered as he stepped out of the common room : at least, their Head of House made sure that they were warm enough in there, however, the same could not be said about the damp dungeons, the forbidding passage leading both in and out of the snake pit. He chuckled softly at the thought, "snake pit" indeed, except Slytherins, no one cared to come down in this part of the castle and for good reasons too : Slytherins mostly kept to themselves, and they did not tolerate students from other houses "visiting" them down here, the common room was a haven for them, their haven, and no one could threaten that.

Draco made his way towards the Great Hall, passing by Professor Snape' s office and classroom, both near the dormitories, just in case of emergency, and when he finally reached the main stairs, he was dazzled by the bright sunlight filtering through the high windows. Spots of light appeared before his eyes and he tried to blinked them away as he was walking by the Slytherin hourglass, which was very well filled indeed and the result of the Umbridge Policy, as some liked to call it. He smirked and motioned toward the door; he pushed them open, and the Great Hall was now full into his view, a sweet scent fulfilling the whole place, bathed in a rich honey colour. He settled at his house table and helped himself as properly as a hungry teenager could help himself and dug his spoon into the hot oatmeal he had chosen for breakfast, eating with all the dignity one could have when having breakfast. The Slytherin students were no exception to the rule : very few students were up before 9.00 AM on week-end days, and today proved to be a very normal Saturday, because very few students were in the Great Hall. The idiotic Creevey brothers were at the Gryffindor table, chatting excitedly over some stupid little scheme with an older student and whose name escaped Draco. The Hopkins were at the Ravenclaw table, Ariel and Darius came from the same well-esteemed Pureblood family and they often attended the galas organised by his mother; therefore, Draco had to be on good terms with them both, which was something quite unpleasant to do. Should he be asked his thoughts about the two of them, he would affirm that Darius Hopkins was a dim-witted idiot and his sister was a permanently-giggling chick, traits that did not go well around Draco. He then peered at the Hufflepuff table, at which several isolated students were having breakfast. Draco shrugged, not paying any further attention to them, and moved about on the bench he was sat on to have a good look at the Staff table. Many teachers were present, including that oaf of Hagrid, which inspired him nothing but disgust, and even Trelawney was there, which was in itself surprising because the barmy overgrown bug was known to never ever left her tower. Dumbledore' s seat was noticeably empty though, and so was Professor Snape' s. Now that he thought of it, Draco did not remember seeing him last night, in the common room; he slightly frowned at this : while he knew that the professor was a busy man, he was always at his (Slytherin, that goes without saying) students' disposal, should they need advice or help. While he was not exactly a caring man, he usually dropped off his customary aloofness whenever he was around them, a development that would surprise many other students who could not imagine how the words "Snape" and "caring" could be put together into one sentence. Draco knew the Potions Master had his reasons to act the way he did, but he also knew that he was an intensely private man who kept to himself, and, therefore, prying into his business would not be the wisest thing to do. He was quite an austere man, even in Slytherins' eyes, and if truth was to be told, some students were even put off by this behaviour and the Professor had to reach out said students himself if they needed anything.

Draco quickly dismissed his train of thought, but as he turned back to his bowl, an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

* * *

><p>The first thing he was aware of when he came back to consciousness was the soreness that seemed to squeeze his body; he did not try to move though, knowing just how painful it would be to do so, but he tried to assess his surroundings as he cracked open one eye. White bed sheets, white curtains drawn around the bed, the morning sun, a scent he had come to know so well. His eyes shot open, the Hospital Wing, how unsurprising.<p>

He cautiously turned his head and threw a look around him, waiting for Poppy to make an appearance, as she always did whenever Severus landed in her lair after a meeting with the Dark Lord and, more generally, whenever one of her "patients" awoke. And, indeed, he was not disappointed when the curtains were drawn, revealing the tired-looking matron who gave him an appraising kind of look. She drew her wand from her pocket and swiftly began to cast spells without her usual fussing.

He arched an eyebrow at her, but this went voluntarily unnoticed by Poppy, who was way too used to Severus' mannerism as her patient to even care about it; something they wished were otherwise, for it was a clear indicator of just how often Severus required the Healer' s skills.

A frown appeared on her face as one spell gave off a dark red colour, a frown that did not leave her face as she went on with her examination. Once it was over, she looked up to him, there was a pause during which the both of them merely stared at each other, waiting for the matron's verdict.

Finally, she spoke up, though hesitation crept in her voice :

"Nerve damage, Severus"

He looked at her straight in the eye, waiting for more to come

- Extensive nerve damage, it will linger for god knows how long. I usually can cure the most of it whenever you're back from...from there, she added lamely. However, he's caused more damage this time, damage that cannot be healed for the moment.

He emotionlessly heard out what Poppy told him, realising the real extend of what she was announcing. It was not something he did not expect, in fact, he had been waiting for Poppy to finally tell him that his constant exposure to the Dark Lord' s little tantrums had taken such a toll on him that it could no longer be healed. He exhaled a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

- Albus will have to reconsider sending you to You-Know-Who if he wants you to be still alive by the end of the year, Poppy intoned.

Of course, Albus would have to reconsider the whole thing, Severus and him both knew that they would eventually have to reconsider it, but they never voice it aloud. Ignoring unsaid things was so much easier, putting words onto such things made everything so...realer, so much more concrete. Like a vicious little monster, locked in the depths of their minds, lurking and waiting for its time to come, when, at last, its existence could no longer ignored, for someone had set it free, ravaging everything the Order had worked hard to build.

These last months had cast a doubt on their minds, a doubt that would have gone almost unnoticed by both parties, had Poppy refrained from saying it out loud, and dismissing it now was impossible.

Severus' position was now doomed, well, it had always been so but Poppy' s words had dispelled any lingering uncertainty. Oh, Severus had sometimes toyed with the idea that he might live through this war, but this notion had just been swept off by the matron' s announcement.

- If I had a say on the matter, Severus, Poppy continued, I would not send you back there again.

He threw her an incredulous look. Clearly, it had to be serious, because Poppy knew just how much was at stake, how important Severus' role was and how sorry all of them would be should Severus..."quit" his position.


	11. Not Over

**Disclaimer : Here is chapter 10 ;) I'm half-way through chapter 15.**

**Thanks for reading, and a huge thanks to those taking the time to review! I hope you'll all like this chapter ;)**

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><p><strong>Not Over<strong>

'Albus should be there soon, I contacted him when you woke up.'

Severus nodded, turning his eyes away from Poppy' s face, and fell back into his pillows. He let a small sigh and said :

'Thank you, Poppy.'

She gave him a calculated look as she evaluated his reaction to what she had just told him, his failing health and his now-compromised position. She was not fooled by the man' s aloofness and completely unimpressed by his forbidding manners, she had known him as a Hogwarts students and she had quickly realised that his behaviour was a way to drive people away, it was just a shell, and a solid one, that kept everyone at bay, everyone except Albus and herself perhaps. While they were not exactly friends, Poppy and him shared an understanding of some sort, something that Severus shared with no one, something he had never dared to share. Under the thick teaching robes the man wore to scare impressionable minds away, there was a man, with strength and weaknesses, with qualities and flows, and not a heartless death eater, as many seemed to think.

Yes, Severus had revealed a bit of himself to Poppy, who, in return, kept this knowledge as a secret, locked into a chest which key had been thrown away, a secret that was to never be mention again, for all the good it would do. Secrecy was part of Severus' life, his life was wrought with secrets few people knew, one of them being Albus himself. Deciphering him proved to be next to impossible, he was a master Occlumens, and walked around the castle with his shields firm in place, his cold and emotionless mask never _ever _slipped, shutting himself away from any human warmth. He had a wretched life but seemed to totally accept it as a punishment of some kind, each day was taking its toll on the Potions master, and Poppy was seriously worried about the disaster this latest development could lead to. Albus was maybe the acclaimed leader, the unfailing champion of the light, but many were working silently in the wizard' s shadow, risking everything they held dear and devoting themselves to the cause. And Severus was one of these men whose life had been claimed by the "Greater Good", whose life had been torn apart by the war. But the first war had not been enough, no, as a second war was rising up in the horizon and another responsibility would be added on Severus' shoulders, Severus who was already staggering under the weight of the expectation Albus had set for him.

She shook her head and strode into her office. Sadness and anger crept through her, and she cursed Albus, she cursed Voldemort, she cursed everything War had brought upon them, childishly stamping her foot on the ground, a vain, vain gesture, pointless really, she thought.

She sat behind her desk, and brought her hand up to her forehead, eyes closed. She was waiting for Albus to deign to show himself.

* * *

><p>'Severus, it's nice to see you awake.'<p>

Severus gave a slight start at the sound of the voice, not quite realising he had been dozing off before Albus' arrival. He tried to sit up straight on his bed, but the effort made him wince in pain and he fell heavily back on the pillows. He tried again, and this time, he managed to sit upright, under Albus' probing look. Severus' eyebrows flew up, his obsidian eyes meeting the Headmaster' s piercing blue own, daring him to make any comment.

But the ever-noble man pretended not to notice, drawing his wand instead to cast a spell that would prevent any undesirable eavesdropping, and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Severus :

'I trust Poppy told you about...the latest development?' He inquired in a low voice.

'Indeed, she did' Albus answered quietly. 'And we will deal with the matter in a moment, but I am most interested in hearing about what happened during your last meeting with Tom from your own mouth.'

Severus crossed his bandaged arms pondered a moment about what he was going to tell Albus, and after a pause, he said :

'The Dark Lord is very displeased with Pettigrew' s defection, he expected information from me because many Death Eaters had been unable to provide him with any useful information.'

'And as you had no information at your disposal, I suppose he took his anger out of you?' Albus asked, an underlying tone of worry insinuating in his voice.

'You suppose well' Severus drawled.

Albus eyed him critically, surveying the visible wounds his spy retained from his last meeting with Tom. Both of his arms were covered with bandages, and so was his torso. When Severus came back, his heart missed a beat as he saw a tangled mess of a man being ejected out of his fireplace. Severus gave both Poppy and him quite a scare, for it was rare that the young man got back in such a state from the meeting, something that was quite worrying as he heard Severus' report. But Severus remained unfazed by the situation, Albus knew he had come to accept torture on a regular basis as a part of his job.

That Tom vented his anger out of his follower was not abnormal, but he rarely did at such an intensity and, most importantly, he rarely took out his fury on Severus.

'Obviously' he heard Severus saying. 'Pettigrew knows many things that could prove detrimental to the Dark Lord' s plans. '

'Are you telling me that Tom was merely panicking when he treated you the way he did?'

Severus frowned at that.

'I suppose, yes. But considering it's the Dark Lord we are talking about, it is not very surprising.'

'While we both know that Tom has anger management issues, we also know that you are never singled out, he considers you as a valuable asset to his cause' Albus said quietly. 'And he treats his assets with care, he does not want them to be too damaged.'

Severus loudly snorted at that, as if _Lord Voldemort_ was one to care about anyone.

'Indeed' Severus replied. 'But he has not inflicted irreparable damage to me yet, hasn't he now?'

'According to Poppy, he very nearly has.'

Severus snapped his mouth shut, his lips pursed.

'We cannot have you half-dead whenever you come back from a meeting, Severus. While you have a crucial role, I would very much prefer seeing you alive rather than dead' Albus affirmed.

Ah, here they were, at last. It took the old coot quite a while to mention the now-very real possibility.

'Oh, and I would sorely be missed, wouldn't I?' Severus jeered, his tone dripping with irony.

Oh, wrong answer. Perhaps he should not have said that, he thought, as he saw Albus' features hardening at the words he had just uttered.

'Albus, there is no way I am quitting, my position is vital to the Order...'

'Not as vital as your life, though' Albus retorted, his voice held such a finality to it that it left no room for argument. 'However, I think it is unlikely that you will have to leave your position any time soon. I have neglected the importance of giving you information, and Tom wants information, therefore you will come with me at the Ministry, I have obtained a special authorization from Amelia herself to visit Peter, she informed me of this earlier in the morning. I suppose that Tom has secured Peter' s mind from outside influences?'

Severus considered these words, weighing the likeliness of such a possibility. He then slowly said :

'Yes, Pettigrew being Pettigrew, he cannot be trusted with one scrap of information, the Dark Lord would have ensured that everything that Pettigrew heard was protected against intrusions, and I think it is quite safe to say that his mind is now warded Legilimency. The Dark Lord anticipated Pettigrew' s capture, and he knew that, should the little rat be caught, you would want to pry into his mind, he ordered me to keep you out of the rat' s mind' Severus suddenly remembered.

'And you think that Tom would have warded Peter' s mind from my influence?' Albus asked pensively.

'That is obvious, Albus' Severus said in an irritated tone.

'From my influence in particular, Severus? '

Severus stared, suddenly understanding Albus' reasoning.

'Once a teacher, always a teacher, Albus?' Severus derisively told him. 'But I know where this is leading to, and no, I do not know whether the Dark Mark will grant me access to Pettigrew' s mind. We know nothing about the nature of this ward, and for all we know, no one could delve into the rat' s worthless mind, except the Dark Lord himself.'

'Which is precisely why no one but you should come with me at the Ministry, Severus' Albus declared 'We need this little theory tested out and, if we are lucky, we might be able to kill two birds with one stone.'

'But you do realise that it is exactly what the Dark Lord wants you to do?'

'Yes, I do. And I think that is why he treated you so harshly last night, he knows that I would not passively stand by and that I would do my best to provide you with tangible information, so that you would not undergo such a treatment again' Albus said pleasantly, a little too pleasantly perhaps. 'But I intended to bring you with me to the Ministry either way, whether it was Tom' s wish or not, so we can safely assume that you will be able to play your role a little longer than we initially thought.'

'That comes as a comfort, I am sure' Severus sneered.

'However, we will have to wait another week, I am afraid, your current state would not allow you to roam in the Ministry' corridors and there might be other... ah, interferences.'

Amazing how "interferences" rhymed with "Umbridge" at that precise moment.

'Until then' Albus said. 'I do hope you will be back on your feet by Monday morning, Severus.'

Albus knew fully well that Severus would be back "on his feet" by Monday morning, therefore, Severus only inclined his head in acknowledgement. Albus, seemingly satisfied with this response, turned on his heels and promptly left the Hospital Wing.


	12. The Art of Occlumency

**Disclaimer : Here is chapter 11! I finished writing chapter 15 minutes ago and I am now working on chapter 16, it's going along quite nicely but I have not idea as for the length the story will reach, I have the outline of the first part of the story, but I still have loads to figure out!**

**Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, I might publish the following one a bit earlier than I intended to as this one is not very eventful. Thanks everyone for reading, and to those reviewing and adding this story to their favourite!**

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><p><strong><em>"The Art of Occlumency"<em>**

'Close the door behind you, Potter.'

With any protestations, Harry did as he was told, for he knew better than to challenge Snape before an Occlumency lesson. He wordlessly shut the door and, as Snape draw his wand and waved it in a complicated pattern, a loud "Click!" reverberated in the office.

Snape' s lessons were not pleasant at the best of times, although it proved to be nightmarish ever since Occlumency lessons had started and Snape' s half-hearted efforts did little to help Harry, who was still struggling to master the basics of this discipline. It's not as though Snape actually explained him how he was supposed to resist "outside influences", no, he seemed content enough with his approach of the subject, which consisted in berating Harry, attacking his mind, berating Harry and attacking his mind again, for good measure. Consequently, these lessons were a complete waste of time, tedious and useless; Harry did realised how important Occlumency was, Dumbledore had insisted on this, but what Dumbledore (often) forgot was the animosity the teacher felt toward his hated student, or rather, he blithely ignored it and thought that locking them both in a room with their respective wands would be a viable way for them to get past their mutual dislike. Oh, how wrong he was, Harry winced as Snape, whose back was turned on him, was drawing thin threads of memories from his temple.

He had not seen the man since friday, the night he had been summoned, and Harry thought Snape definitely looked tired, and he had bags under his eyes, creating a sharp contrast with his pale skin, paler than usual if it was possible for him. Considering who Snape had been visiting then, Harry supposed he really should not be surprised, well, at least, he did not get to see the treatment Voldemort had in store for Snape. If he had, Harry was not sure he would have been able to confront the man because, while he rationally knew that his teacher was a human being, he had always viewed the professor as this steady and snarky figure, not as a man who was regularly tortured and reduced to a whimpering mess like all the Death Eaters were when their master deemed necessary to punish them. The notion bothered Harry, it was disturbing to see people like Snape crumbling under the weight of the coming-war, people who had been part of his life; teachers, friends, constant figures of authority, solid-looking and as strong as anyone could be.

Shivers ran down his spine, he really should not linger on things like that, especially not when Snape was second-away to invade his mind, he should try to focus, yes, he had to focus. Harry took a deep breath, and watched Snape putting the Pensieve away in a locked cupboard. He eyed the man carefully, shooting uncomfortable glances at his wand and shakily draw out his own wand. Something that did not go unoticed by Snape; with a sneer on his face, he shut the cupboard and turned to Harry, but did not point his wand at him right away, which Harry thought to be a very good thing. Instead, the professor went over to his desk, indicating him to sit on the chair near his desk. Harry stood there, hesitant for a moment, before complying. There was a pause, Snape was seemingly looking for the best way to breach what seemed to be a painful subject, and finally, he slowly told Harry :

'Last week' s little...ah, incident has proved us two things, Potter.'

Oh, he had completely forgotten about this, Pettitgrew' s capture had eclipsed everything else in Harry' s mind.

'Not only did we discover the little importance you gave to these lessons, but we also learnt that you are subject to erratic bouts of Legilimency, which means that you will have to pay special attention to Occlumency.'

'Legilimency?' Harry asked, a quizzical look on his face.

That sure came as a surprise.

'Yes, Potter, Legilimency, uncontrolled Legilimency' Snape emphasized. 'Something you cannot allow to happen, but something that happened because you have been not been putting enough effort into Occlumency.'

Now, Harry was confused.

'Sir? '

'It is a rare occurrence, but it seemed that the vision the Dark Lord sent you put you under a significant stress, a stress that had triggered a curious reaction from your mind, your undisciplined mind if I might add', Snape added in a snide tone. 'And your mind latched itself into the closest thing it could find, namely, my own mind.'

Oh. Harry could sense trouble.

'However' continued Snape in an emotionless voice. 'Whether the Dark Lord is aware is the connection between the both of you remains unclear. A little burst of Legilimency could cost us dearly, Potter, because we cannot have the Dark Lord roaming into some people' minds, people surrounding you daily. Imagine now, Potter, that it was Professor Dumbledore' s mind, or your little friends' minds that the Dark Lord could have seen, what do you think he would do with what he would find?'

Harry froze a moment, staring at his professor, completely nonplussed, he had not expected that, he did not even know how on earth he had been able to do Legilimency, even for the faintest moment. But according to Snape, his surprising burst entailed much more than Harry could have imagined. The idea of Voldemort in Hermione's mind, or Ron's, or Neville's, or Fred's, or George's, he shivered at the implications, it was intolerable, it would not happen, he swore to himself. Snape had just given him a proper motivation to learn Occlumency.

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><p>Severus, of course, knew what Harry's thoughts were, it was not exactly hard to read the boy's demeanour at that moment, the full implications finally hit him, and they hit him hard.<p>

Severus knew that the boy's learning can no longer be compromised by his ill-feelings, he had to try other ways to drill Occlumency into Potter's thick skull, _too much was at stake_.

* * *

><p>'Now that you realise just how important learning Occlumency is' Snape drawled. 'I am sure you also realise that we cannot let our personal ill feelings toward each other interfere with your study of this subject.'<p>

That effectively snapped Harry out of his stupor, he knew he must have heard wrong, Snape, snarky bastard extraordinaire, Snape, of all people, was saying that to Harry? Was Snape really calling for a truce? His eyes widened and he shot an incredulous look at Snape, what was next? "Harry, let's make peace"?

But Snape remained silent.

So, Harry settled with a puzzled :

'Ah...'

Snape's eyebrows flew up.

'Indeed, "Ah", Potter. And this also means that we will now have to work differently for you to eventually grasp the basics of Occlumency and I will expect diligent work from you, not the half-hearted attempts I saw until now.'

'_Oh, and whose fault was that?_' Harry angrily thought, Snape had just admitted that he had let his dislike for Harry getting in the way. He opened his mouth to protest, but Snape cut him off before he could utter a word :

'And I will not need to remind you what would happen if you do not do so, or you will be very sorry indeed and my anger will be the last of your worries should the Dark Lord be roaming into your little friends' minds, or anyone else's' Snape intoned, the warning was enough to shut Harry up.

Harry imperceptibly shivered, and nodded at him.

Satisfied with the response, Snape suddenly got up, catching him by surprise as he saw Snape taking what looked like an ancient-looking book from one of his bookcases. Snape considered it, his thin fingers running over the faded purple letters inscribed in the leather bookbinding. One moment later, he got back behind his desk and slipped the book to Harry. Harry carefully took it and glanced at the title : "The Art of Occlumency".

'You will spend the next hour reading the first chapter, you will do it here and we will see just how much knowledge you will retain from your reading' he heard Snape saying in a bored tone.

Harry nodded again and he saw Snape pointed at one solitary desk sitting in one of the corner of his office. Catching the meaning of that gesture, and only too happy to indulge, Harry got up and walked to the desk, settling on the hard chair, and turned the first pages of the book he had just been given.

And then, he knew which method he preferred over the other, reading a book was much less straining then the repeated attacks on his mind from his vicious teacher.


	13. Half Light

**Disclaimer : As promise, I'm posting this chapter a bit earlier than usual ;) Chapter 13 will be online sunday. I haven't written much these last few days, and therefore I'm still working on chapter 16. Thanks a lot to the one person who review _every single_ chapter, you can't imagine how much I appreciate it!**

**Thanks for reading everyone! I know I repeat it every time, but I am so grateful that you take the time to actually read the chapter, it sure means quite a lot to me! :)**

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><p><strong>Half Light<strong>

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Hermione looked up from her Arithmency essay and glanced at the clock up on the mantel. It read 9.30PM. She frowned, Harry' s lesson with Snape rarely lasted so long, unless Snape was in a very vindictive mood, which was a common occurrence and therefore, not surprising. Although, it also meant that Harry would come back to them completely stoned from the harassing teacher' s attempt on his mind, and the thought did little to put her worries at rest.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

She shook her head though, worrying herself sick over it would do no good. So, she got back to her homework, she was almost finished with it, she had one last paragraph to write.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

The common room was unusually silent, she absentmindedly noticed.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Only the scratching of quills onto parchment could be heard, many Gryffindor students were studying, which was a nice change.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

However, "silence" and "Gryffindor common room" were not terms that could, that _should _be associated into a single sentence.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Hermione was used to working in the usually-noisy place, she was used to the loud laughs, to the merry activity, to the excited chatters, such a silence indeed felt very out of place. She was used to the many pranks students would pull off shortly before curfew (from First-year to Seventh-year, considering that Fred and George managed to be noisier then the whole Gryffindor body, which was in itself quite a feat considering the customary raucousness of this particular hourse).

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Fred and George, she realised were not there tonight, they were probably up to something. Well, they constantly were up to something, but they were preparing something outside the Gryffindor sanctuary.

Another nice change, Hermione mused as she scratched one sentence off.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Now, the ticking was really grating on her nerves.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

She puffed and reluctantly put her quill away, rubbing her eyes and ignoring the slight prickling one usually associated with tireness. Today had been a straining day, and even she found homework tedious that evening, which was saying quite something as she usually took an uncommon pleasure in completing the many essays the teachers set their students. A concept that was lost on many people, including Harry and Ron, whose results reflected the sluggish and lazy studying habits they had picked up ever since their arrival at Hogwarts. One would think, Hermione told herself derisively, that her own maniacal tendencies would have rubbed off them, but no such luck.

She sighed audibly, attracting an odd look from Ron.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Now, couldn't anyone tune down that thing?

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Out of pure habit, she surveyed Ron' s essay with a critical eye.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

"_Veleryan roots are notably used in slipping draughts, which enables anyone drinking it..._"

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

Ah, so that was Snape' s essay Ron was completing, the one he had failed to turn in at the last potions lessons.

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

'Slipping draughts'? Really, Ron?

'Tik...tok...tik...tok...tik...tok'

She leaned toward him in order to point out his mistake and she was about to chastise him when the portrait guarding the entrance of the common room turned on its hinges. She swiftly turned around, a movement soon copied by Ron as they saw Harry walking into the room and looking reasonably healthy for someone who had just spent two solid hours with the infamous Potions Master. A development the both of them thought quite surprising.

Harry spotted them easily among the many students present in the common room, whose heads were bent toward their respective work and their faces screwed into an expression of intense concentration, and he quickly made his way around the chairs and tables, a little smile spreading on his lips as he approached them.

He took the chair next to Ron' s and stretched his limbs a bit before giving his friends his full attention. Hermione was eying him expectantly and Ron' s face reflected an ill-disguised curiosity as they were burning with the question none of them had uttered yet. Tonight seemed to be quite different from all the other evening during Harry had...remedial lesson, a change had been brought about, and it was up to Harry to announce it to them.

Finally, Ron opened his mouth and leaned forward, whispering :

'How did it go, mate? You sure spent a long time down there...'

Harry threw a cautious look over his shoulder, checking for any unwanted eavesdroppers, and answered him in an equally low voice :

'Snape's decided to change his methods, he made me read his blasted book' he pointed at his schoolbag. 'For two hours.'

'Surely' Hermione replied in a sardonic tone, 'you're not complaining about that?'

Ron gave her a irritated look, but Harry merely shook his head, and a lock of jet-black hair fall before his forehead, hiding the much-hated scar from view.

'I don't know what got into him' Harry murmured. 'Perhaps Dumbledore has knocked some sense into him, but that sure came as a surprise! I mean, reading a _book_? Since when Snape goes easy on his students?'

'Snape changing his methods, well' Ron snorted softly. 'That's a first.'

'And not as surprising as it seems' Hermione said pensively, 'considering last week' s...err' she looked around her as Harry' s look of warning deterred her from going further into their conversation, several students around them had stopped writing and were suspiciously still.

So, Hermione snatched a piece of parchment and scribbled down one single question. She promptly slipped it to Harry, allowing Ron to read what was written as she extended her arm across the table to reach Harry :

"_Why such a change you think?_"

Harry opened his schoolbag and took a crooked quill out of it, he then proceeded to answer, Ron titling his head over Harry' s shoulder :

"_Mentioned last week' s vision. Told I performed some kind of Legilimency when I was in Voldemort' s mind_"

Hermione and Ron' s eyes widened as they read that, they had not knew what had been going on when Harry had his vision, they never knew for they never lingered on it, it brought an uneasy feeling about them, it cast a nagging shadow around them, an almost imperceptible veil of uncertainty. Well, considering it was Voldemort they were talking about, the idea of Voldemort being close, slipping into Hogwarts in a manner, in a twisted manner, it was enough to disturb anyone.

Harry did not stop writing though, and his quill was scribbling madly onto the parchment :

"_Said it couldn't happen again, suspects Voldemort would have access to other people' mind_"

"And for good reason" Hermione thought, shivers coursing through her body as she refused to imagine what would happen if no one put a stop to _that_.

"_Told me he let his bad feelings got on the way of his teaching_"

Ron let out a loud snort at that.

"_And that I have to read his book..."_

Hermione wordlessly approved.

"_For now, though_"

Both Hermione and Ron' s curiosity were piqued by these words.

"_I think he considers giving me lessons in the Room of Requirement._"

Hermione' s eyebrows flew up behind her bushy fringe, and Ron' s face wore a puzzled expression. Harry laid his quill back onto the wobbly table and shrugged at his friends' reactions. He pushed the piece of parchment toward Hermione, who nodded as she took it up and folded it into her pocket, fully intending to reduce it to ashes whenever no one was around and effectively sealing yet another secret that had to be kept from all the others.

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><p>Loud miaowing disrupting the stillness of the room, hurried movements, the tip of a wand igniting, a monstrous shadow cast onto the pink walls, the sound of broken porcelain, soon followed by a muffled groan.<p>

The wards, the alarms had been activated by God-knew-who, a student, a teacher perhaps. She shook her head, no, no, no one was supposed to visit her tonight, it had to be an animal, surely a stray animal one of the students had set loose in the castle, to defy her authority, to supplant her authority. She hated children, she had always hated children, their ill-manner, their disrespect, their ignorance, she wanted to straight them up, to straight them all up, she would knock order into their young skulls, she would drill order into them.

Her chubby cheeks were now a deep red, horribly contrasting with her pallid toad-like face, so unlike the poisoning sweet facade she usually showed around people. Her eyes were red-rimmed from tiredness, they were uncertain and glinting in the half-light of her office, apprehension marking her movements. The pink attire she wore fell limply about her, her sophisticated were undone and pieces of what used to be a tea-cup laid scattered at her feet, on the carpet, the liquid soaking through the disgustingly fluffy fabric.

Dolores Umbridge had been enjoying a calm and uneventful evening, the kind of evening she seldom had to herself these days, and she knew she had been dozing off for the teensiest moment, if her reaction was any indication, when her alarms suddenly went off, which meant that someone that ought not to be near her office had come close enough for the wards to detect the intruder. She went to the door, carefully so as to not make any noise, and slowly pushed it open, its brass hinges painfully creaking and cutting through the heavy silence. She winced at the disturbance, and waddled along the corridor, lit by only a few scattered torches, near her office, her sharp senses ready to pick any suspicious sound that would bother her now-quiet surroundings.

'Humanum Revelio Tessos' she suddenly said in a brusque mutter.

A faint light issued from her fat little wand and draped the corridor in a thin coat of magic. She waited, and waited. She threw a cautious look around her, fully expecting the spell she had just cast to show the intruder. Not a soul was around though, her spell had not revealed anything or anyone that should not have been there and only then did she allow herself to ease her worries. She let out a breath she had not realised she had been holding and shook her head, she could not let her defense down, not now, not just yet, she had been startled, yes, she had let tiredness get the better of her, silly of her, really. She was at Hogwarts, around students, around children, around inexperienced children, inapt little beings that could not harm her, she had nothing to fear this night, not even the teachers. They all were within arm's reach, one little slip, one little false step, and she could kick them out of here.

She smiled, a mirthless kind of smile, twisting her feature into a grotesque expression; a burlesque villain standing in the dark, eradiating with confidence, smugness dripping from her toad-like face. She turned on her heels, and got back into her office. She locked herself in her pink sanctuary and threw a lazy glance around, but her look fall on her desk, and on the letter she had been reading before being disturbed. Cornelius' letter.

She settled behind her office and picked it up, carefully unfolding it, and soon, her eyes bouncing from left to right as she progressed in her reading. A small frown appeared, her eyes narrowed at Cornelius' words, the corner of her mouth twitched. Her face bore a sinister look when she was finished, and erratic thoughts ran in her mind.

Bad news indeed, bad news that could prove to be detrimental to the Ministry's reputation, to Cornelius', and, by extension, to hers. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was re-examining Sirius Black' s case and, according to the letter she had just read, were considering to held a full trial to determine Black' s role in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' s ranks during the last war. Peter Pettigrew' s capture had surprised everyone, and Dolores herself had found it curious, but this little last-minute change could be very hazardous, oh yes, very hazardous indeed.

She stirred uncomfortably on her chair, Cornelius' credibility was at stake, she had to rectify the situation, and she knew the very person for the job.

She grabbed a quill and dipped it into ink. She hold it into mid-air for a moment, and finally started to write.

The fire that was searing in the fireplace was soon dying away as night consumed Hogwarts, casting a veil of mystery and of danger upon the ancient building, a vicious shadow lurking in the half-light of Dolores Umbridge' s office.


	14. In The Moon

**Disclaimer : 13th chapter online! I haven't written much this week, and I don't think I will write much this week as I expect I'll be busier than usual, which is why I doubt I'll publish the next chapter on wednesday, I sure will try though ;)**

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><p><strong>In The Moon<strong>

She was quietly reading a book her father had sent her earlier that day; near the fireplace of the common room, she was lulled by the soothing warmth eradiating from the bright dancing flames, she let a small smile grace her features as she saw through the high windows flakes of snow drifting into the air and gently brushing the cold glass before slowly melting. She had her nose up in the air, and her wide dreamy eyes were shining with undisguised wonder. Snow, how she loved snow, how she loved watching these little flying flakes coming down from the sky, frozen little things gently shrouding the world into a cotton-like coat, muffling the sounds of the world. Everything was then still, so still and so calm, the air only disturbed by the breeze, the trees silently looming over the castle' s grounds.

She heard people sniggering near her, she threw them a curious kind of look, oh she often was the target of many people' mockery but then again, she cared very little about what people might think of her "abnormal" ways, you would swear that they were holding the absolute definition of normalcy, but they were not keen in sharing their views with her, it seemed. Pity, she absentmindedly thought, but what is being normal anyway?

Luna Lovegood was not one for steady and scientific truths, everyone knew that, she had her own unaltered view upon the world, both Muggle and Magical, and that was when her mother died that she swore to herself to never _ever_ let anyone taking that from her. Life was a buzzing hive, and Luna liked to go beyond that hive, to discover things that unimaginative people would miss, her father taught her this particular lesson, and she had been a meticulous pupil.

That night, however, Luna was waiting for the clock to strike 6 o'clock. It was at 6 o'clock that the D.A would meet tonight, according to the Galleon she always kept with her, in her pocket. She wondered whether Harry would move to the stupefying hex, he had mentioned it to Ronald Weasley at the last meeting, two weeks ago. Last week had been lonely, Peter Pettigrew' s capture had eclipsed everything and the D.A had slipped off Harry' s mind, but hopefully, today would remedy to that.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, her raddish earrings dangling, as she took her wand, struck behind her left ear for safekeeping. As her fingers were brushing against the smooth polished wood, a tingling warmth coursed through her palm and her arm and fondness suddenly crossed her face. Reminiscent of the day she bought it from Mr. Ollivander, alongside with her father :

_Diagon Alley was buzzing with activity, most people were in a rush to get their last-minute school shopping done, parents were calling after their children, students were happily chatting with their friends, while others ministry employees were exchanging pleasantries with acquaintances. It was a bright, sunny day and Luna was walking beside her father, her hand firmly gripped to her father' s own, her childish face was frowned into an expression of apprehension. It was not the first time she came to Diagon Alley, Dad would bring her with him sometimes when he had an appointment, but she rarely ever got out of home. That day was special, though._

_They were walking quietly toward Mr. Ollivander' s shop, and Luna was watching all these people walking by her, blurred figure hurrying, running past them. Her protuberant blue eyes were widened with amazement as they approached the old shop, she stared a moment at the worn-out wand resting on a dusty velvet cushion and wondered who could be the owner and where this person could be, for if there was one thing Luna knew, that was just how much people treasured their wands, she knew the reverence with which some wizards treated their wands. Getting her own wand therefore was a special day, her special day._

_She glanced up at her father, who merely smiled and leaned toward her, whispering a few words in his daughter' s ears. Her face lightened up at once and she pushed open the entrance door, the bell tingling softly. As soon as she entered the shop, she knew there was more to it than shelves and boxes, the place was almost radiating with a mysterious force Luna could not define._

_Her thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Ollivander appear from behind a high pile of boxes, her pale grey eyes peering at his customers. A flicker of recognition in the grey depths, and his demeanour shifted as he greeted with the customary formality the two people standing in front of him :_

_'Xenophilius Lovegood' he bowed slightly. 'Unicorn hair and maple, if I well-remember, eleven inches and quite supple.'_

_Xenophilius bowed back, his dirty blonde hair falling before his eyes, and answered :_

_'Your memory never fails you, Mr. Ollivander.'_

_The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he turned to Luna, who had watched the brief exchange with curiosity :_

_'Ah, and here we have...?' the wandmaker inquired._

_'Luna Lovegood, Sir' Luna answered in her dreamy voice._

_'Well, Miss Lovegood, you will be glad to know that I sold your mother her first and only wand' Mr. Ollivander told her, a certain fondness creeping up in his tone._

_Luna looked up at him, a wordless question written all over her young face._

_'Sycamore, Miss Lovegood, and dragon heart-string' Mr. Ollivander stated. 'The perfect match for who she turned out to be. Pity, pity...' his voice trailed down as he summoned a measurer from the back of his shop._

_It zoomed in the air, flying past boxes and suddenly stopped in front of Mr. Ollivander, who snatched it and gave his wand a little wave. Soon, Luna found herself being measured and Mr. Ollivander barely acknowledged it for he had already turned around and taken a first box out of a near shelf. He offered a black wand to Luna, who carefully picked it and attempted to twirl it in her hands but the wand was snatched out of her hold. Not bothered in the least, Luna looked the man busying himself around the shelves of his shop, her curiosity piqued by the man' s demeanour. _

_'I think, Miss Lovegood, that ebony would not suit you' he said, his voice betraying a hint of excitement.' But perhaps English oak would...'_

_She gently took the second wand she was presented with, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it back, again, and a faint smile was now spreading on the wands maker' s lips. He got back behind one of his shelves and brought, this time, no less than four boxes, each containing a wand that just might suit Luna._

_'Dogwood would perhaps...?' his voice trailed down, and he shook his head as he took the third wand out of her hands._

_Luna tried no less than ten wands before Mr. Ollivander seemed beside himself with excitement, something Luna found quite entertaining. Her father was standing in one of the corners of the shop, and he was surveying the scene with a disarming serenity._

_'Let's try this one, shall we Miss Lovegood?' Mr. Ollivander happily told her. 'Hornbeam and unicorn hair, go ahead child.'_

_Luna took what was the thirteenth wand she was trying from the man' s open hand and a strange warmth erupted from the wand she was then holding, and a beam of bright purple light issued from the tip of it, a strange aura seemed to bathe the shop, and her little burst of power was wrapping the place in a magical glow. While any other children would have been bouncing with joy, Luna merely stared at her new wand with polite fascination, a starry-eyed eleven year-old gazing at what would become her best companion. She looked up at Mr. Ollivander, and at her father, who merely nodded at her, and she smiled._

_'Ah, bravo indeed!' Mr. Ollivander told her enthusiastically, clapping loudly and dust hanging in mid-air around him. 'Yes, I think we have found you the perfect match.'_

_Luna remained silent, her gaze fixed on the man before her._

_'You see, Miss Lovegood, my own wand is made of hornbeam and I certainly hope you will find it a suitable wood for your magic, my dear, for hornbeam has one particularity, do you know which?' He inquired._

_Luna lazily shook her head._

_'Hornbeam selects the witches and wizards with one single, and pure passion, an unaltered passion, people with their own uniqueness, and I state it with all due modesty' he bowed slightly toward her. 'I think that we can expect much of your talents. Remain faithful to yourself, Miss Lovegood, and this wand will allow you to reveal a potential you did not know of.'_

_It was then that Luna decided that Mr. Ollivander was a very likeable person._

_She was now grinning, her white little teeth fully bared, her pale blue eyes sparkling as she made the man a silent promise she would fulfill all her life._

_'Sir, Luna spoke for the first time, to whom does this wand belong to?'_

_She was pointing at the wand resting on the cushion, near the entrance door._

_Mr. Ollivander merely titled his head in response, and whispered to her :_

_'This, Miss Lovegood, is the very first wand I created, many years ago, it has never chosen anyone.'_

As any magical person, Luna treasured her wand, she treated it carefully, fully aware that it was not a mere tool. She pocketed it and peeped at the clock, a quarter to six, it was time to go. She got up from the armchair and exited the Ravenclaw common room, a new-found bounce in her steps.

It had stopped snowing.

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><p>Harry was dozing off when he realised that he would soon have to go to the Room of Requirement, he had scheduled a D.A meeting that evening but he wished he had set it the following day, because he suddenly remembered that Snape expected him for an Occlumency lesson tonight, shortly after the meeting. Harry groaned and lifted himself up in a sitting position, his sight slightly blurred, he peered at the clock through a haze of drowsiness : ten to six. He sighed audibly, attracting curious glances from all the Gryffindor students gathered in the common room, and he brought his hands to his eyes, trying to rub the tiredness off them. His fingers ruffled through his very messy hair, hopelessly trying to flatten them. "Lost cause", a little voice in the corner of his mind that incredibly sounds like Ron' s told him. He shook his head and grabbed his schoolbag, he dragged himself off the squashy sofa and, slowly regaining his balance, made his way toward the Fat Lady' s portrait. It was ajar, he motioned to push it open but a student had already opened it by the time Harry' s hand reached the handle. Said student was holding it open for him and without noticing Ginny Weasley, who was standing out the entrance, he grunted in thanks and walked past her.<p>

'Harry!' She called after him, following him down to the main stairs.

Harry sharply turned around, frowning, but he relaxed instantly as he saw Ginny running after him. Hedwig was with on her shoulder, her claws firmly sunk into her skin and her great white wings flapping madly around her, she hooted indignantly but Ginny, wincing in pain, paid little attention to the owl' s discontent.

'Harry' Ginny panted. 'I've been looking for you.'

She pointed at Hedwig, and then at her stinging shoulder. Harry gave a slight start and gently urged Hedwig toward himself; after a few moment of hesitation on the owl' s part, Ginny breathed out in relief, massaging the place where Hedwig had sunk her claws, and gave Harry a letter.

'She was carrying this' she muttered. 'I thought you'd like to read it before going.'

Harry nodded to her absentmindedly as he stroke Hedwig' s fluffy feathers, and he took the envelop Ginny was holding out to him. He recognised Sirius' hand-writing at once.

- 'Thanks, Ginny' he told her. 'Eer, I might be a bit late, could you tell the others that...?' Harry looked at her hesitantly.

She nodded, turned on her heels and climbed up the stairs leading to the seventh floor, her long red hair flapping the air around her, and soon, she was out of sight as she disappeared around a corner.

Harry' s focus turned back to the piece of parchment he was holding, finally, Sirius' answer. It was about time, Harry furiously thought, he had been worrying about his godfather all week long, without so much of a scrap of news, nothing in the newspaper, nothing from the teachers, nothing from anyone, nothing from Dumbledore.

He felt sudden surge of anger, mingled with frustration and sadness, at the mention of Dumbledore, no one had seen the old wizard around the school that week, and while Harry knew he must have been busy (well, Dumbledore always was busy anyway, but he had been more so than usual). Far from easing Harry' s worries, the Headmaster 's absence only fueled his frustrations. Lately, he had learnt not to expect much from Dumbledore, but this outright indifference stung more that Harry would ever admit. And Harry knew that lingering that would do more harm than good, there was more pressing matters at hand, namely the D.A meeting (why on earth had he agreed to name their defense group Dumbledore' s army? Harry ferociously thought) and the Occlumency lessons (and why couldn't Dumbledore teach him himself? He bitterly added). Although Sirius' letter was the most urgent of all. He threw a cautious look around him, but decided he would read it elsewhere, the corridor near the Gryffindor tower was way too crowded for Harry 's comfort. He shoved the envelop into his school bag, he knew that the sixth floor usually was deserted at that time of the day, people would hang around their common room. The sixth floor, that was it, he would go there.

He hurried down the stairs, and rushed into one of the tapestry, behind which a hidden door led to one of the quietest part of the castle. He thrust it open and closed it noiselessly. He crouched down, checking that no one was around, and extracted the letter from his bag. He tore the envelop open and unfolded the worn-out piece of parchment :

"_Bambi,_

_The warlock has thrown the bone to the dog, but he might send the dog back to its kennel._

_Sniffle"_

Harry blinked, several times. A bizarre urge to laugh seized him as he read the very short letter Sirius had written to him, eclipsing the anger he had been feeling moments ago.

_Bambi_?

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><p><strong>All information about wand woods has been taken from Pottermore spoilers, which I found on the Internet quite easily :) Check it if you would like to know more about the wand woods that are mentioned in the chapter!<strong>


	15. The Whole Stupid World

**Disclaimer : Finally, 14th chapter on line! And...well, I still haven't got started on chapter 17 because I had exams this week, and after the exams, well I got sick and I was unable to stay in front of my computer more than 5 mins without falling asleep on my keyboard. I now have a one-week long break from university, and I have a four-day trip planned, and I doubt I'll have access to Internet. Plus I have more exams coming up after the break, therefore I won't be writing the next chapters anytime soon but chapter 15 will be published on tuesday, and chapter 16 on sunday ;) After that, I'll try my best to keep up with the publishing pace ;)**

**Big thanks to everyone reading the chapter and adding the story to their favourite: :) And special thanks to the few people reviewing every single chapter! :D**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>"The Whole Stupid World"<strong>

Harry stood up, his eyes never leaving the yellowish parchment, and read again and again the words drawn in emerald ink, understanding slowly blooming in his mind.

Well, the reference to Dumbledore was obvious, a bit _too_ obvious, Harry thought. Any member of the Order would know that Sirius was referring to himself when he wrote "dog", and Harry would have been very dim indeed if he had not understood it.

' "Bone", why would Dumbledore throw a...' Harry muttered pensively.

The answer popped up in his mind at once, it was so obvious to anyone who was looking for the right signs : Amelia Bones! Sirius was talking about Mrs. Bones, she worked at the Ministry and she was part of the Order, he had heard Moody Mad-Eye telling Remus once, if there were one person at the Ministry who could get Sirius a hearing, that would be her.

However, the second part of the very short letter was quite disquieting, what was Sirius meaning by "kennel"? Harry could only associate it with Grimmauld Place and Azkaban, which were both options Harry did not like to think of. While the Black family house would be a better alternative than Azkaban, he did not picture Sirius wallowing in his own misery, in Grimmauld place, for another few years, his godfather would turn mad before long. As for Azkaban...no, Harry refused to contemplate that possibility, there was absolutely no way that Sirius be thrown back into that hellish place. It has broken him once, and Harry would achieve the impossible to keep his godfather out of it, even if it meant defying Dumbledore. Despair was slowly creeping on him, like a disease, sneakily infecting his whole body. Harry felt sick, this was not supposed to happen, his anger flared up again, Dumbledore could not let this happen;

'He CAN'T!' Harry shouted furiously.

He stamped his feet on the hard ground, his fury now reaching a whole new level. Every ill-feeling towards Dumbledore he had been bottling up for the last few months were now surfacing, Harry' s resentment toward the Headmaster coming into full force. He had not meant to scream his anger for everyone to hear, he really had not, but things had been piling up, for months he had been bearing his classmates' sniggering, the stupid rumours, the stupid headlines, the stupid articles;

'The whole-'

Harry kicked the wall violently.

'Stupid-'

Another kick.

"WORLD!" He screamed, anguish betraying his now-shaking voice .

He had never lost control like now, he had never felt so angry in his entire life, not even after one of Dudley' s bullyings, not even when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had denied him a proper childhood, not even when Pettigrew had escaped that night two years ago, not even when Ron' s betrayal.

But this was the last straw, loosing Sirius, it was unconceivable, not now, not when he had just got his godfather back.

He wanted to tear off the tapestry hanging from the high ceilings, he wanted to rip it to shreds, he wanted to smash every _stupid_ rusting armour against the wall, to crush what would remain of it and to howl his anguish to the entire school.

Instead, he fell heavily on the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, his eyes shedding tears he had been withholding for too long. His anger was gone, it had vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Harry to his misery.

And so, Harry wept, he wept for what seemed like 5 mins, or perhaps it was 30 mins, he did not know and honestly, he did not care, but he heard the sound of steps, it was approaching at a steady pace, and whoever it was, Harry did not want to know, this person would walk past him, and Harry would peacefully cry his heart out, he would be left alone, he wanted to be alone, for the time being.

Whoever this person was, however, did not seem to agree with him, and he saw the stranger stopping before him, the tip of his (or her?) bright yellow shoes visible through the blurry veil tears had cast over Harry' s sight.

'Harry?'

He knew that voice, and he then really wished that particular person would just go away, he did not want to hear about odd and extraordinary creatures no one had ever heard of, he was simply..._not in the mood_.

Suddenly, it all came back to him, the D.A meeting, he had been so absorbed by his self-pitying that it slipped out of his mind!

'_Uh-oh_'

'Harry' said Luna in her customary dreamy voice. 'Harry, why are you half-sprawled on the ground?'

He involuntarily let out a soft tearful snort, of all the questions...!

'What do I look like I'm doing?' Harry retorted, his voice dripping with bitterness.

He sat up in a straight position, wiping away all traces of tears on his face. Luna' s arrival had been as efficient as a cold shower.

'There's no need to get touchy, Harry' Luna serenely answered him, her face bore an expression of polite interest, which irritated Harry more than it amused him.

He grunted his response, and turned his back at her, like a pouting child. He puffed audibly, his stomach squirming with utmost embarrassment.

' I'm surprised it didn't happen any earlier though' Luna added as an afterthought, a puzzled look crossing his face.

Harry sharply looked up at her and he angrily opened his mouth to answer but;

'It's OK Harry, you don't need to say anything' Luna cut him off.

She stepped back and leaned against the wall, across the spot where Harry was, and she sat down, her legs crossed and looking thoroughly unembarrassed by the situation the both of them found themselves in. Harry remained silent as he watched her settling down right across from him. An awkward silence then fell upon them, Harry opened his mouth to speak several times, but then decided against it and closed it. Luna was humming to herself, playing with her dirty blonde hair, her eyes wondering from each side of the corridor to the high ceiling, and finally to Harry himself. She said nothing, she merely smiled at him.

'I could hear you from the other end of the corridor, Harry' Luna started to say. 'You don't want to bottle up all your emotions like that, it's not very good for you.'

He stared at her.

She titled her head toward him, and, as if she was about to trust him with a secret, she whispered :

'It's perfectly human to let your emotions explode once in a while, Harry, there's nothing to be embarrassed about.'

He threw her an incredulous look but her smile only grew wider.

She then abruptly got up, and waved her arms around her, as if she were trying to drive a bothering fly away.

Harry stared at her, _again_.

After a moment or two, Luna turned to him, and she told him brightly :

'Wrackspurts, there's a whole nest of them in this corridor'

She then extended her hand to him, Harry considered it. Luna, the ever-smiling Luna was beaming down on him, she flapped her arm around her one last time, and looked at him straight in the eyes.

Harry took her hand, and she helped him getting back to a standing position. Once he had lifted himself from the ground and wipe the grime off his trousers, he heard Luna say to him :

'You're not alone in this, Harry'

And on these words, she turned back and danced away from him, humming to herself and a bouncy spring in her steps. He watched her leaving, and he was suddenly very glad to count Luna Lovegood among his friends.


	16. Another Approach

**Disclaimer : Chapter 15 as promised ;) And longest chapter so far :P The following chapter will be published sunday, and I have got chapter 17 started. **

**Thanks for reading! :)**

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><p><strong>Another Approach<br>**

He was late.

Harry was running all the way down to the dungeons, he had arrived late for the D.A meeting, and he would arrive late for Snape' s lesson, and while his classmates dismissed the delay, well, most of them anyway, Zacharias Smith did complain, but that did not really count. He was sure, though, that Snape would not be as forgiving as his friends. He elbowed his way through the thick crowd gathered at the base of the great staircase, and proceeded to zoom past the Slytherins on their way down to their common room.

He arrived in front of the door of Snape' s office panting hard, and quite out of breath. He plucked up all the courage he could muster, and knocked on the hard wood. He heard Snape' s voice beckoning him inside, and he took a deep breath and turned the heavy handle to enter the overgrown bat' s lair.

He was greeted by the sight of Snape ferociously crossing out sentences from a student's essay, the sharp scratching of his quill on the parchment quite audible for anyone present in the office.. When he saw Harry standing on the threshold, he put put the essay he had been grading away, and looked at Harry with an ominous glare.

'You are late, Potter'

Harry kept his mouth shut, pertinently knowing that Snape would not accept any of his excuses. He did lower his eyes, however, for he did not want to defy his teacher when the latter was very likely to draw his wand at any moment and to attack Harry' s mind out of sheer spite.

'I did not quite hear that, Potter' Snape snarled.

Harry looked up defiantly at his teacher, his new-found resolution already forgotten. Snape glared at him, as if he dared him to say anything that could be thought as remotely arrogant. Harry soon looked down in defeat as he knew that aggravating his teacher so early in the lesson would do no good. He sighed softly and mumbled :

'Sorry to be late, Professor'

Snape was smirking triumphantly down at him, a hint of a smile on his lips, relishing of the tiny victory he had just scrapped from Harry, from a Potter, from James Potter' s son. Harry gritted his teeth, and any sympathetic feelings he might have had for his teacher at some point vanished in a puff of smoke, for there was a man who took an unhealthy pleasure in tormenting people half his age, there stood that man unable to let go of a petty schoolboy grudge, there was Severus Snape, the man who confined himself into his own despicable ways. Contempt was now etched in Harry' s very traits, and he glared down, not meeting the professor' s eyes.

'Make sure to arrive on time, Potter' He heard Snape tell him. 'Or you will explain yourself with the Headmaster as to _why_ his golden boy does not bother to turn up on time at lessons.'

Harry did not look up, but his resentment did not lessen at the Potion Master' s words, it only amplified it.

'Lessons' Snape continued in a sickening silky voice 'of which I do not need to remind you of how important they are?'

Harry was still intensely glaring, still as a statue, glowering at an unseen man. '_Do not take the bait_', he told himself, '_don't give him that satisfaction_'.

Snape paused.

Silence.

Silence seemed to stretched on and on, none of the people present in the room wanted to admit defeat, none of them would yield to the other.

None of them.

However, Harry eventually looked up at his teacher, who was glaring back at him with an equal intensity, and Snape chose that moment to get up from his seat. He got around his desk and stopped before Harry, his arms crossed over his chest, his face betraying a slight irritation.

But then again, Snape always looked at Harry as if he were some kind of flies that should be crushed at the first chance, so there was no real change in the vindictive behaviour Snape usually kept for Harry.

Harry then motioned toward the corner of the office where he had spent his last lesson, but he was stopped on his track by Snape' s voice :

'I don't think so, Potter'

Harry turned around, and threw his teacher a quizzical look, to which Snape responded with an annoyed shook of his head.

'Not tonight, Potter' Snape announced, 'We will have this lesson elsewhere, pick your schoolbag and follow me.'

Harry bent over to pick up the schoolbag he had thrown on the ground a bit earlier, but his whole demeanour was screaming with distrust, his movements was deliberately slow and cautious.

'Quickly, Potter' Snape growled.

Harry shrugged in response, and swiftly stood up.

Snape then turned on his heels, his black cloak billowing around him and strode out of his office, Harry hurriedly went after him and tried to keep up with his teacher, whose legs were much longer than Harry's own, and consequently, Harry was almost running as he tried to walk at the same pace as Snape' s, his school bag hanging from his shoulder and banging against the dungeons walls. They soon reached the main staircase, and they both climbed up the stairs. People were eying them curiously, some even whispered on their way, and Harry' s puzzlement intensified as they passed by the third floor corridor. Surely, Snape did not intend to...?

When they stopped by a tapestry Harry knew very well, he finally realised where Snape was leading them :

The Room of Requirement.

His teacher suddenly halted in the middle of the corridor, and stood before the naked section of wall that hid the entrance to this particular room. Without so much as a warning, he turned around and pushed Harry out of his way with a curt gesture of his hand, and he paced. It took him quite a long time to get the door to appear, or rather, longer than it usually took Harry, but the room granted them access after a few minutes. Snape abruptly opened the door and motioned Harry inside, who looked completely unfazed by what his teacher had just done before his eyes.

Once he was inside, however, Harry knew that he should have acted surprised as Snape threw him an unfathomable kind of look. Harry tried to look politely interested by this supposedly new demonstration of Hogwarts' magic, but it clearly was too and it did not fool his teacher in the slightest.

Snape merely arched his eyebrows at him, and Harry guiltily looked away as he knew that he had probably disclosed to his teacher a secret he, along with all the D.A members, had worked hard to keep. He turned his back on him, unable to meet his professor' s eyes, and considered the room they found themselves in.

It was surprisingly cosy, a soaring fire was burning in the hearth of a heavily carved fireplace, made of dark marble, an orange shadow was happily dancing on its polished surface, flickering back and fro as the bright flames was creaking. A dim and diffused light bathed the place in a comfortable atmosphere, it was not unlike the Gryffindor common room, although deep blue drapes were hanging over the walls. The colours were neutral, no emerald green nor crimson red, no silver nor gold to be seen, something he had to concede to Snape. Two leather armchairs stood near the fireplace, comfortable-looking and facing each other, and there was a small table on which several crystal vials had been placed.

'Ah' He heard Snape say in a snide tone. 'So that would be the place you have decided to use for your little club.'

Harry jumped at these words and sharply turned around, horrified by what Snape had just uttered. He was about to retort when Snape cut him off and sneered :

'You cannot seriously think that the teachers do not know of your little meetings? Anyone with half a brain would guess what you and your little classmates are up to.'

Harry blushed indignantly, and blurted out :

'How...how do y'know?'

An unpleasant smile spread on Snape' s lips as he replied :

'Now, Potter, we are not blind, nor are we deaf, and we are certainly not half-wits. Little remains secret Hogwarts, and you have been incredibly indiscreet about your little project, the walls have ears.'

Harry' s face bore a look of complete incomprehension mingled with indignation, his cheeks were now a bright red and he was furious with himself, furious with the lack of discretion they had showed, furious that it was Snape, of all the people, to tell him, furious that Snape was seizing _yet_ another chance to belittle him.

'The portraits Mr. Potter, as well as people living in Hogsmeade, have heard you plotting your teenage rebellion. The portrait are not mere decorations, I am sure that after 4 years spent here, you have realised that?'

Harry angrily shook his head.

'They report to the Headmaster, and to the Headmaster only, a convenient development considering that Professor Dumbledore is the one ruling the school. And the task of warning you of the risks of your little stunt' Snape uttered these words with faint distate, 'has befallen to me.'

'We're perfectly aware of...' Harry retorted hotly

But Snape interrupted him, _again_ :

'No, Potter, I do not think you are. Let me get it straight, do you know who you are dealing with? I think Professor McGonagall has already warned you about Dolores Umbridge?'

Harry' s jaw dropped slightly, astonished that his teacher knew so much. _Wasn't there anything that the teachers did not know about him?_

His reaction must have amused Snape, because he heard him sniggering unpleasantly. He glared up at him, and saw that Snape did not bother to hide the glee he felt at his student's discomfort.

'You know where she comes from, Potter, you know just how much influence she has at the Ministry and you have to realise how much damage she could do.'

Harry' s puzzled face urged Snape to go further :

'She is not to be underestimated, your Head of House has told you this, but as you seem to blatantly ignore her, I am going to drill this into that thick skull of yours : do not aggravate Dolores Umbridge any further' Snape emphasized. 'She only has suspicions of your activity here, she does not have any solid proof yet, but should any of you be discovered by _her_, I will leave the consequences to your imagination, Potter.'

He watched Harry struggled with the inner battle he was fighting, clearly, the boy had been delusional as to the real _risks_ of that little stunt of his.

'In which case, Professor Dumbledore might not be able to step on your behalf, and you might as well pack and take the train home, because she would expel you before you even realise the extent of your stupidity.'

The capacity Professor Snape had to slip insults in almost everything he said to him, Harry thought, was amazing.

'And you know what awaits you outside this castle, don't you Potter?' Snape asked in a sharp tone.

Harry imperceptibly nodded in response. What his teacher had just told him did not surprise him, he knew it, they all had pondered on it long hours before coming to the conclusion that the D.A would be worth all the risk they would take, although, the bit about Dumbledore ignited worry in Harry' s mind. He folded his arms, as if he wanted to will away the pain usually brought around by the mention of the old Headmaster, and nervously wriggled his fingers.

One question kept nagging him though, and it was very simple : why Snape, _of all people_, was the one telling him that?

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><p>Severus, however, went over near the fireplace and stood a moment there, relishing the effect he had created on the boy. Disciplining Potter was not a hobby of his, he had suspicions as to why Albus had asked him to remind his golden boy of the danger Dolores Umbridge represented to the school and all its inhabitants. He had no consideration and no respect for the woman (who would?), she was a mere puppet designed for a greater purpose, and her master was the one to fear. Cornelius Fudge had never been what could be called a "good" Minister for Magic, but he had created a whole new concept for what corruption was and the talentless man was a paranoid, a lethal combination in these troubled times. And Albus thought the boy had to be impressed on the seriousness of the situation, and that pleasant task had befallen to Severus, to the latter' s great displeasure.<p>

He threw one last glance to Potter before turning around and settling down on one of the armchairs, and he indicated the boy to sit on the other one.

It took the boy a long time to eventually sit on the blasted armchair, and Severus glowered at him with such intensity that Potter decided to avoid his eyes, he was staring at a spot behind Severus, seemingly at the wall.

'Now, Potter' Severus brusquely told. 'I consider you have been warned and you are now fully aware of what kind of situation you could land yourself in if you make so much as one single false step.'

Of course, the boy' s eyes told him just what Severus had been looking for, they were glinting with ill-concealed contempt, one could even call it hatred, but there was also resignation, and the boy, realising how much he had just given away, looked away. Severus' lips twitched in amusement, savouring the unhealthy pleasure he drew from the boy' s reaction, the same pleasure he had drawn from the only times he had managed to knock Potter Senior off his golden pedestal. Revenge was sweet, even after several decades.

'Back to Occlumency' Severus announced, 'I trust you have read what I asked you to read?'

The boy nodded miserably, ah, now, the situation was truly crashing on him. Potter has _finally_ realised _where_ he was, and with _whom_, and surely, he would know better than aggravating his professor, now, wouldn't he?

'And what do you remember of it?' Severus suddenly asked in a harsh voice.

His students looked up, and a small frown began to form on his forehead as he was trying to remember what it was exactly that he read about Occlumency. Severus joined his hands and leaned in the armchair as Potter was struggling with the details of his reading.

'Eeer' he heard the boy say. 'That occluding one' s mind did not necessarily consist in suppressing one' s feelings' He looked uncertainly at Severus, as if he were waiting for a sign of affirmation.

Severus however merely tilted his head, indicating Potter to go on.

'Hmm' Potter added lamely. 'A master Occlumens' shields usually draw their forces from familiar settings, that's why he or she would...err' He frowned a bit more. 'anyone willing to master Occlumency should choose a representation for his or her shields, it could be anything, from elements to a place, even something abstract...'

'And I suppose you have guessed what this lesson will entail then?' Severus inquired abruptly, his tone clinical, devoid of the usual rudeness he usually employed when addressing Potter?

'Choosing a representation for my...shields? I suppose?' Harry hesitatingly said. 'Sir?' He hastily added.

'Indeed, Potter. I am glad that a few hours of reading have not been lost on you' Severus replied in a snide tone, however, he soon dropped back to the cold and emotionless tone he had been using earlier, 'Have you considered it?'

Severus had deliberately chosen to leave out the allusion to his previous method to teach the brat Occlumency. He had known beforehand that this discipline did not always imply the sheer repudiation of every single feeling, but he had thought best to test out the approach that he himself had used when learning Occlumency, and this method had proved to work very well with Severus. However, it turned out to be a total disaster with Potter, who proudly wore his heart on his sleeves for everyone to see.

Severus had felt it had been time for a change of approach, of course, and the incident in last week' s potion class had definitely proved it was time to test out another method. Something Severus wished he hadn't had to do, because it entailed a very different logic and a certain closure between the teacher and the pupil, and a certain level of trust as well. Dumbledore had pushed him to try, the way Dumbledore was always pushing him towards the boy but constantly failing, but too much was at stake for Severus' intentions to be clouded with ill-feelings, and it was time for Severus to truly teach the brat how to properly occlude his mind, no matter how pathetic or worthless Potter' s mind was. He despised the Headmaster for putting him in such a delicate situation with his former nemesis' son, but even Severus knew when to tune down his perpetual hatred, especially when his position as a spy was put in such jeopardy.


	17. I Want to Use Them

**Disclaimer : Chapter 16 published on time! :) I even managed typing chapter 17, and got chapter 18 started before leaving for my trip (said trip was great by the way!). I will publish the next chapter next wednesday, but you might not get a chapter next sunday, in case I don't manage to get a few chapter written up. I've always preferred having a few chapters ready in case I happen not to be able to write anything at all for reason X or Y, you'll get more precision next wednesday, until then, enjoy this chapter :)**

**Lots of thanks for the people adding this story to their story alerts and favourite, special thanks to those who take the time to leave a review. Knowing that this story is actually read by you all really keep me going, I am so grateful to every person who read this fiction :)**

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><p>"<em><strong>I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.<strong>_"

Oscar Wilde

'You realised Potter, that Occlumency is not so much about storing away your thoughts and feelings, even though such an approach is sometimes used to teach it' Harry listened Snape telling him in a professorial tone. 'Occlumency could in fact be summarised in one single word : discipline. It consists in disciplining your mind, defining the clear limits of one' s mind, and to use these limits to build a strategy to defend your mind against outside influences. One can truly master Occlumency once one is aware of the potential and the limits of one' s mind, the learner then get to know just how he or she can yield his or her mind, how he or she can use it to hide, to show, to deceive.'

Snape' s speech sounded fascinating, his teacher was carefully choosing his words, weighing them, his soft silky tone lacking the ever-present harshness. Harry found himself paying all due attention to the man sat right across from him, it was not the infamous Potions Master Harry saw on a daily basis who was talking, it was a master, who expertise in his area could not be questioned.

Such a pity, Harry derisively thought, that Snape was a real git in classes, because a competent teacher was hidden under the thick black robes and the snarky facade Snape put up every day.

'The mind is a complex entity, constantly evolving, constantly changing, easily unhinged by emotions. Your emotions are but one part of what your mind actually is, they are a warrant of its wholeness, they are the fuel, the essence, what permit your mind to work properly. No matter how deep you will bury your feelings and moods, they always are there, may they be good or ill. They are merely hidden from sight, concealed behind the defenses you will choose to erect, and ever-present.'

_And you couldn't have mentioned it earlier, could you now_? Harry mused.

'However' Snape went on. 'Emotions can be tamed, their influence on one' s mind can be lessened, they can be used, enjoyed, disciplined, dominated when one is given the proper motivation' Snape shot Harry a knowing look. 'But few find themselves able to block them out utterly.'

Harry stared into the void, pondering on the professor' s words, somehow, he doubted that this new approach would be more pleasant than the former one, perhaps more successful though.

'I cannot expect such a feat from you, because it usually takes years for an Occlumens to achieve such a level of expertise, and considering we are talking about you, I might as well ask you to stop breathing for all the good it would do' Snape told more to himself than to Harry, but he went on, pretending he had not noticed Harry' s now indignant expression. 'And we do not have decades ahead of us, we have weeks, therefore I will endeavour myself to teach you the basics, and we may go further, but it is essential that you grasp what I am going to teach you first before delving any further into the study of Occlumency'

Snape' s lack of hostility, Harry decided, was very destabilizing.

'As you stated it yourself, an Occlumens usually choose what his shields _looks like_, and it usually represents a familiar setting, it can be a confined environment, or an open one, what matters the most is that you feel comfortable, or your attempts will be as miserable as they have been so far.'

Harry stirred uneasily in his armchair.

'Which is why I have decided to come here, a neutral environment may help you focus on the task at hand' the tone Snape used when he said that indicated that he somehow doubted that Harry could focus on anything, _at all_.

'Now' Snape suddenly barked, getting up from the armchair and standing near the fireplace, back turned on Harry. 'I suppose you have already think of what form you would like your shield to take?'

Harry mumbled a low :

'Yes, sir'

Snape sharply turned on his heels, and glared at Harry straight in the eyes, towering over his pupils. The great shape of a man hiding the fire from Harry' s sight, a hint of magical power hanging in the air.

'Well?' Snape inquired.

'Gryffindor Dormitories' Harry blurted out.

Snape' s eyebrows flew up as he heard his pupil. But his face soon smoothed out in an expression of cold satisfaction and he leaned slightly toward Harry, a dark shadow cast over his hard features, emphasizing the teacher' s sharp traits.

'Close your eyes Potter.'

It was Harry' s turn to arch an eyebrow then.

'Do as you are told, Potter' Snape ordered him in a bored tone.

Before complying, Harry drew his wand out of his pocket and kept a firm grip on it, signifying that he did not trust his teacher, who merely shot him a look of annoyance.

'While I am very much aware that we still have a very _long_ way to go, Potter' Snape slowly intoned, his voice heavy with irony. 'I am not going to attack you, this is merely meditation work I am going to ask from you.'

Harry' s shot open, and looked up at Snape with defiance. There was no way Harry was going to put his wand away, not when this particular professor was roaming around the room. He tightened his grip on his wand, and gritted his teeth.

Snape waved a hand in dismissal, and went on as if nothing had happened.

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><p>A flash of light. Emerald green light illuminating the place for a brief moment. A dark figure swirling out of the marble hearth. A heavy cloak billowing and then entered Lucius Malfoy, his aristocratic face screwed into a pleasant expression, his inquiring grey eyes surveying the place he found himself in.<p>

If one peered closely enough at Malfoy Senior' s features, one would find the barest hint of disgust then gracing his features as he caught a glimpse of the numerous plates hanging on the nearest wall. He jabbed the ground with the tip of his cane with a sharp movement, and he swiftly turned around as he heard a voice exclaiming :

'Ah, Lucius, how nice to see you!'

He titled his head in acknowledgment, and gently took her hand, his lips brushing the woman' s skin. A gesture that drew a muffled giggle from the woman' s part, he smiled slightly.

'Madam Umbridge' He said softly, bowing slightly.

Niceties have been observed, to business now.

'I must say I was quite surprised when I saw your letter' He drew a letter and gave it to her, 'but I am most curious about what it is exactly that you expect from me, Madam Umbridge'

She had dropped her overly sweet demeanour by then, a trait he had always despised, her little façade did not fool Lucius in the slightest, she knew to take what her superiors gave her at the right moment, but the ridiculous woman had her use, and when she spoke, her tone was buisness-like :

'You know the situation jeopardises many things Cornelius has worked hard to build since the end of the last wizarding war, Lucius.'

Lucius looked at her knowingly, and gave a sanctimonious nod, yes, he was very aware of what the situation implied for the both of them, though he had very little interest in Dolores Umbridge 's petty aims.

' Sirius Black' s guilt cannot be re-examined' Umbridge told him, the abrupt words stating aloud what the both of them had been thinking. 'I think you have surmised as much, Lucius, and I have hoped that you would be able to address the issue we find ourselves facing.'

He bowed courteously his head.

'Why, Madam Umbridge' he spoke up. 'I am glad we share the same interest for the situation, and I am much relieved that you realise the impact the re-examination of Black' s case could have. But what is it exactly that you expect from me?'

Her fat lips, covered with thick purple lipstick, stretched into a malicious smile, baring her yellowish teeth, little wrinkles crinkling her skin

'What we would need, Lucius' Umbridge began in a self-satisfying tone, 'is an interference. We must make sure that Sirius Black is be brought before the Wizengamot, he must face a full trial, and a hearing will be set.'

Lucius' s face was now a smooth mask, carefully upheld.

'Dumbledore will be a problem' She went on, 'I do not expect him to stand by passively and not trying his best to detangle Black from his tricky situation. He had not inquired for a trial fourteen years ago, but we can be reasonable sure that he will seize the occasion to get his former student one, because Peter Pettigrew' s capture have cast doubt on his mind, and, if not by sheer charity, he will do so purely out of guilt.'

As he heard what Umbridge was telling him out, he allowed himself to be astounded by the woman' s arrogance. Defying Dumbledore in such a foolish and naive way was not wise and while there was truth in the woman' s statement, Lucius also detected delusion, for Dumbledore was not easily outwitted, and he doubted that Dolores Umbridge would be the one to achieve such a feat. Oh, Lucius would try his best to thwart the wizard' s little schemes, one could even go as far as saying that he had devoted himself to this particular task ever since he had been appointed at the Ministry, but Black' s case was too sensitive an issue to be treated lightly, and it would require extensive planning, and skillful diplomacy.

The Dark Lord had not been happy with his followers' inaptitude, Wormtail' s capture had come as a very bad surprise to every Death Eater, and even more so to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord' s anger came at too high a cost. Lucius barely contained a wince as he remembered the treatment his unforgiving master had had in store for him, when he had come back from the Ministry empty-handed.

'You, Lucius, must make sure that Dumbledore is cut down in his attempt to help Sirius Black out, we will let him have the trial he is after, we will let him have the entire Wizengamot gathered, we will let him have the hearing, and only then will we intervene.'

Lucius merely stood there, listening to the foolish woman before him, his perfect demeanour betrayed nothing but polite interest. His hand was resting on his ebony cane, his leather gloves scraping slightly the silver snake head at the top of it. The heavy cloak he was wearing that evening was draping his broad shoulders with an eloquence only those from the Malfoy Family could muster. He was holding his head high, domineering Dolores Umbridge without even trying. Yes, should anything displease Lucius in her little plan, she would bend to his rules in the end, and he would not bend to hers.

When Umbridge stopped talking, Lucius merely bowed and said pleasantly to her :

'Leave it to me, Madam Umbridge, and you will not be disappointed'

She smiled knowingly to him, and nodded slightly.


	18. And Along Came Many Failures

**Disclaimer : Chapter online! But, as I announced it on sunday, I didn't manage to write much, I'm half-way through chapter 18 and having two or three chapters ready for this coming sunday will prove quite tricky to do, so do not expect a new chapter before next week :/ I may publish it a bit earlier than wednesday, depending on how many chapter I can get written.**

**Until then though, enjoy this chapter! :) A big "thank you" to anyone who read this :)**

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><p><strong>"Many failures came along too"<strong>

The both of them were standing in the great Atrium, near the multiple dark marbled fireplaces from which many witches and wizards popped out with total indifference as to what surrounded them. Severus had been first to arrive, and had almost immediately been followed by Albus, whose flashy robes attracted many curious glances from uneasy employees who found themselves staring at the supposedly mad Hogwarts Headmaster, slandered by the press on a regular basis.

Ah, but today, Albus had _special_ permission, which was perhaps the only reason why he had not been kicked out of the place as soon as he had set foot in the sacred Ministry of Magiv.

However, Albus Dumbledore did not stop once to greet former students or old friends as he would usually do whenever he visited the place, no, he merely made his way, the thick crowd splitting up as he walked past people, cool determination was carved into his usually kind and warm face, such an indifference and aloofness was very unlike the old wizard, and it did little to ease Severus' s own demeanour. Severus had never liked the place, each visit had left a vivid mark on his mind, most vivid of all was perhaps his own trial, held more than a decade ago, during which Albus had stepped in his favour. And today was no different, but he would not allow himself to show any sign of discomfort and the emotionless mask he constantly wore would not budge.

They both engulfed into the nearest lift and waited. Amelia Bones would meet them at Level 8, the deepest level in the Ministry, where cells had been built for ah, "special" prisoners whose condition would not permit an extended stay in Azkaban. Actually, such cells were used to keep them at hand and not out of concern for the prisoner' s health, it was so much more convenient for the Auror Office to have them near, and having Pettigrew near would facilitate things a great deal. Not that the rat would actually survive long in Azkaban, if Bellatrix' s insanity was anything to go by, one week in the hellish place would sniff life out of the pathetic man, but Pettigrew being what he was, he was a permanently-twitching and shaking mess, regularly tortured for the Master' s amusement and humiliated by his peers. Severus did not pity a man who knew exactly what he had signed for, but he was most curious as to the reason why Pettigrew found himself in a state far worse than before. Whoever the rat stumbled upon was no friend of Pettigrew' s, or perhaps even an _old_ friend.

Finally, they were in the long corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries, the black stones covering the walls glinting ominously as Severus caught a glimpse of the dark-wooden door at the end of the long flight of stairs, of all the things that the Ministry retained in its depths, this particular Department was by far the most interesting, and the most dangerous. Severus had but a faint inkling as to what the employees were up to down here, mainly because of the Order' s recent involvement in this part of the Institution, and curious rumours circulated about it, none of which Severus really believed in but rumours had a part of truth in them, even if the actual facts were twisted and misleading. When he still was a Hogwarts students, Severus had vaguely considered working for the Department of Mysteries, but this idea had soon been outshined by other preoccupations his teenage self had back then. Uneasy thoughts crossed his mind, thoughts he usually kept buried deep, thoughts he never liked to linger on. He shook his head irritatingly, as though he were chasing an annoying fly away.

He followed Albus without further thoughts, and the both of them stranded along the long corridor wordlessly, without so much as a glance for their surrounding or for each other. The two figures, whose great cloaks were embracing the shape of their bodies, billowing in the air around them, walked straight ahead, a mere disturbance in the thick silence. They were moving swiftly, rapidly, their movements were fluid. Both were impassive as they approached a woman, standing near a massive oak door, her hand on the rusted handle and a set of brazen keys tied to her belt. She had short, straight grey hair, a monocle firmly in place and her demeanour was as stiff as the greeting they offered the two men. She nodded curtly at them, and that was all. Pleasantries would be exchanged later, the three of them were on duty and they were watched and fully aware of it, for one did not simply waltz into this particular prisoner' s cell without strict control, it would be very unbecoming of the Ministry if its finest catch was to escape because of a loose supervision. Sirius Black' s escape had been an unpleasant business for the illustrious institution, Peter Pettigrew' s escape would be most irksome for everyone involved.

Amelia Bones took the heavy bundle of keys off her belt, and selected one key. She turned her back on them and inserted it into the rusted lock. A loud sound reverberated through the corridor and sliced through the heavy atmosphere, Albus and Severus exchanged a furtive glance and looked away as Amelia led them forward.

The air down there was coated with moisture and dust, the pathetic cells were damp and green slime covered the walls. A dimly lit place, a few spare torches giving out a weak light, barely enough to see further than a few feet ahead of them. There was nothing, nothing except one single chair sitting near a cell. A man clad in maroon robes stood up to meet them, and he walked toward them with cautious steps, as if hesitating on the way to behave with the new comers. He gave Amelia a calculating kind of look, to which the witch responded with a glare. She handed him a scroll of parchment, and he snatched it out of her grip and unrolled it carelessly. He then proceeded to read it at the dim light of the torches, his face screwed into an expression of intense concentration as he deciphered the words and sentences written on the sandy surface of the bit of parchment.

He looked up and peered intensely at the three of them, his eyes lingering on Severus who merely smirked at the man, a man who recognised him and whom Severus recognised. One of his first students, he had been a second-year when Severus left Hogwarts as a student, a sixth-year when Severus took up the teaching position. He had been in Hufflepuff, and an utter idiot to anyone with half a brain, a rebellious teenager wallowing in his own arrogance and a walking disaster in Potions Class. It had been a relief to see him leave the school, to every teacher.

Eventually, the man looked away, uneasiness written all over his vacant face, and he grunted something to Amelia and walked out of the place, leaving the three of them effectively alone.

Amelia drew her wand out of the layers of her deep crimson robes, the ones judges were usually seen wearing when within the Ministry, and gave it a small wave. The grate of the nearest cell opened up in a sinister grinding sound, pushed by an invisible force. Albus bowed slightly to Amelia, and gave her a small nod. She tilted her head and spoke up for the first time :

'You have one hour, Professor'

'Thank you, Madam Bones.' Albus answered her, his tone as respectful as he could make it.

She turned on her heels and promptly walked the grim place, her exit punctuated by a loud creaking sound as she closed the door.

Neither Albus nor Severus relaxed, they had come here for answers, and leaving without answers would not be a very happy turn of event for Severus.

'Don't you find it strange, Albus' Severus spoke up, 'that a cell such as Pettigrew ' s is not better protected than that?'

Albus allowed a small smile on his lips as he heard his colleague' s statement.

'Ah, but Severus, I doubt that our friend here' He pointed at the cell, 'is left with little protection such as one we witnessed a mere moment ago. Well, shall we?' He asked pleasantly as he moved toward the cell.

Severus nodded and followed Albus into the miserable cell, and it was even smaller and filthier than he had imagined. There was not enough room to hold many people, and it was downright surprising that the both of them managed to stand upright in the small space allotted by the Ministry cell. And they were not alone, Pettigrew was there, as he had been expected to be. He was sitting up on the mucky stones, staring right ahead him, unknowing of his surroundings.

Even Severus was astonished by the sheer gauntness of the man, he was emaciated, his body looked so wasted that it was surprising that the man was still breathing, or rather, wheezing. Albus had told them about Pettigrew' s "precarious health" but clearly, the man was dying, and Azkaban would have finished him off in a matter of days. Even in this cell though, Severus somehow doubted that Pettigrew would see the end of the month.

'Now, Peter, what have you done with yourself?' He heard Albus muttering sorrowfully to himself.

Severus wisely contained himself and did not make any disparaging remarks about the Headmaster' s sadness over Peter Pettigrew.

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><p>Albus only stared a few moments at his former pupil, Peter Pettigrew, traitor <em>par excellence<em>, considered a coward hiding in the shadow of those detaining the greater power by many. The man who thought that the ultimate betrayal would save his life, would save him from the ravage of the war. Such a move from the once plump and hesitating eleven year-old had angered Albus, it had startled him, it had frustrated him, but above all, it had saddened him. And it still saddened him, watching his students thrusting themselves into darkness they would never extricate themselves from, each student he had lost to Voldemort had left his or her mark on the old Headmaster, each student he had failed in a way or another, they all had left a burning mark on his mind. Shame, sorrow, frustration, he did not know whether he could have saved them all, somehow, he blamed himself for not even trying. Every Death Eater, every wrongdoer had once been an eleven year-old, they all had been children once, they all had sat on the old three-legged stool to be sorted, they all had passed before Albus, who had watched them growing up, loosing themselves to a nameless evil, some of them gladly, others in spite of themselves. Yes, murderers had been children once, and Peter Pettigrew had been a children once, Albus remembered him well, a small boy, full of doubts and fears about himself and the world. Swayed by those he thought to be the most powerful. James Potter and Sirius Black had been the first, Lord Voldemort had been the last.

Albus brought his wrinkled hand to his head, and he rubbed his forehead , eyes closed, a sorrowful sigh escaping his lips. Somehow, the life of great men was littered with many successes, but many failures came along too, one of which sat in a stinky Ministry cell, staring into the void.

He heard someone coughing behind him, he turned his head slowly around and saw Severus looking at him, impassive and politely indifferent to the Albus' small display.

'Albus', he heard Severus say, his silkly voice betraying some hesitation, 'Shall we proceed?'

Albus drew a long breath and knelt down before Pettigrew, who did not give the faintest sign of recognition as the headmaster gently took his head and placed his fingertips on the man' s temples. Albus scrutinize Pettigrew' s face, his bony and blank face, devoid of any expression, his eyes wide open, staring through his visitors. He blinked, stupidly, slowly.

A low murmur, an incantation.

'_Legilimens_'


	19. Unloved by All

**Dislcaimer : I am glad to say that I am finally starting to catch up, I'm still fixing chapter 19 at the moment, but you will get the next chapter next sunday ;) I'm pretty sure the publishing rate will get back to normal, and I will get another few chapters ready this week, as exams are almost over!**

**Thanks everyone! And once again, a huge "thank you" to the one person reviewing every single chapter! :)**

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><p>"<strong>Unloved by All<strong>"

Swirls of confusing thoughts flew past Albus, long strands of dark memories whirling around. Nothing distinct, a myriad of blurred shapes, dark figures coming and going. Albus tried to grab one memory, and tried again, without success. Water effusing through his fingers, smoke escaping his fist every time he tried. An unceasing stream of mad memories, crazily dancing about, unable to stay still for one moment. It was flowing away, out of Albus' reach, leaving nothing but darkness and nothingness.

He quickly withdrew from Peter Pettigrew' s mind and was back in the damp cell he had left for a short moment.

'Albus?' Severus cautiously asked.

Albus shook his head and turned to his colleague, surprise still etched on his face. He drew his wand and waved it around the cell, effectively keeping away any undesirable ears.

'It seems we were right, Severus' Albus told him. 'Our friend' s mind has been warded against my influence. Tom had indeed cast layers of enchantments around Peter' s mind. However, I only saw what is left of the enchantments, I have seldom seen such a confused mind.'

Severus frowned at Albus' words.

'Obviously, there used to be a defense meant to repel me from his mind, one that would have worked admirably if it has not been tampered with. What is left of it is, I must admit, quite worrying, whatever Tom did with Peter' s mind, I am fairly certain that he did not intend to render him as useless as he currently is.'

'Tampered with?' Severus inquired.

'See it for yourself Severus' Albus pointed at the inert man. 'You may be more successful than I was, for I do not reckon Tom would deny you access to Peter' s mind, not with the enthusiasm he had when he designed the repelling charms against me, at least.'

Severus arched an eyebrow at him and motioned toward Pettigrew, Albus, in the meantime, moved from the prisonner to allow Severus to kneel down.

'And I do not reckon the Dark Lord would be careless enough to let _anyone_ roaming in Pettigrew' s mind if it holds important information.' Severus disparagingly retorted. 'The Dark Lord is many things, Albus, but I do not need to remind you that he is _not_ trustful, Death Eater or not.'

'I do not see the harm we would do in trying, Severus' Albus pleasantly said, royally ignoring the Potions Master' s aggressive tone.

'Oh-ho' Severus jeered, his tone dripping with irony. 'Albus, I do see the potential harm in trying, this is the Dark Lord we are talking about, not some second rated wizard.'

'As much as I enjoy arguing with you, Severus, I would hate to waste the one hour we get in petty fights' Albus told him agreeably.

Severus threw one last suspicious look at his colleague and took Pettigrew' s head the same way Albus did, and placed two fingers on the man' s left temple.

'_Legilimens_' He whispered.

As soon as he entered the rat' s mind, he knew something was wrong, very wrong. Albus described it as "confused", Severus considered that Pettigrew' s mind had been utterly hinged off. He had been addled, twisted in a way Severus had seldom witnessed, perverted into a swirling mass of incoherent thoughts and memories. He only caught snippets of memories, distorted images, cold pictures frozen in time, nonsensical sequences of faded colours, but he also felt it. He felt the magic that used to surround the worthless man' s mind, the powerful magic designed to keep any intruder at bay, may they be Death Eaters or Albus Dumbledore himself. Ripped off into shreds of thin magic, barely sustainable thread of magic, jolted carelessly by the never-ending flow of confusion, streaming forth and back. Every new memory he had access to was perhaps more puzzling than the previous one, he grabbed onto a string of memory, and he saw dislocated bits of Pettigrew's life. He saw an old woman hugging a boy, he saw another old woman surrounded by Death Eaters, he saw Pettigrew surrounded by Sirius Black and James Potter, patted the plump boy on the back, he saw Pettigrew in his animagus form, scurrying away an unknown place, he saw Black' s gaunt face in the Shrieking Shack, his eyes alight with a murderous glint, and so unrolled Peter Pettigrew' s life under Severus' s eyes.

However, the flow was soon pulled back by a force Severus could not locate, and soon darkness engulfed what was left of Pettigrew' s mind, from which Severus quickly retreated.

'I have never seen anything like this, Albus' Severus panted, looking up to the Headmaster, 'I have seen many cases of misused Legilimency, but we have reached a whole new level of mind confusion. This is irreversible, and I do not even know whether we will be able to extract anything worthy from this mess.'

'Ah, I am glad that you too have noticed that Legilimency was indeed what has left Peter in that state of extreme passiveness.'

'Passiveness?' Severus repeated, he pointed at Pettigrew 'You call _this_ passiveness? The man is dead to the world, and he will not last long. Whoever found it clever to force the defenses around his mind has a very vague concept of what Legilimency is.'

'Or has a very brutal approach' Albus added pensively, 'So Peter has indeed been attacked and then transported to the Ministry, the attacker obviously lacked subtlety ...'

Severus snorted at that, _loudly_.

'...and ripped his mind to shreds for good measures. Well, passing the defenses is not a problem anymore. However, we now face a far more complicated problem... And we still do not know how Peter found himself out of Tom' s claws in the first place. Have you found anything that would help us?' He inquired.

Severus crossed his arms across his chest as he pondered about what he had seen in the rat' s mind and he slowly said :

'I saw...I believe snippets of memories, disconnected from one another.'

Albus' eyes lighted up with interest, and he urged Severus to say more.

'Moments from his childhood, from Hogwarts and from his days as a Death Eater, nothing overly important, but it is a start.' Severus conceded slowly.

Albus opened his mouth to answer, but decided against it and brought his hand to his chin.

'Interesting, it seems that some defenses still are up then' He threw a glance at Severus, who looked back at him, impassive. 'I myself have been unable to see anything distinct in Peter's mind. It turns out that our guesswork had hit the truth in a way.'

'Albus, there is no way to know if my Dark Mark is what enables me to delve into the rat' s mind, not yet.' Severus answered hesitatingly 'Pettigrew' s mind can be exploited and we will be lucky if we find what we are looking for, but he has only a few weeks left, he would be fortunate to live to see the next month.'

Severus' tone was implacable when he said that, beating around the bush would be no use here, they clearly were running out of time, they had to hurry.

Albus stared at him a while, as if peering through his colleague and deciphering the sentence he had just pronounced. He threw one last look at Pettigrew and a small sigh escaped his lips, resignation washing over him and he nodded to Severus. There was a short pause, during which it was Severus' turn to observe the old wizard, but Albus nodded again and with a small gesture of his hand, indicated Pettigrew' s limp form, the pathetic shell of a man, that was sitting in the miserable Ministry cell, unknowingly staring right ahead of him.

A stolen life, a wasted life, tainted with crimson stains that would never go off, paved with cowardice and littered with the worst choice any man could have made. And so would Peter Pettigrew' s miserable life end, in the deepest level of the Ministry of Magic, unloved by all and alone, utterly, completely alone.

'I trust you would know where to start, Severus?' Albus suddenly said, his now-cool tone cutting through the thick silence that had swept over them.

Severus tore his eyes from Pettigrew and looked up at Albus. Albus whose demeanour was now as forbidding as it could be, any regrets the Headmaster might have shown a bit earlier had been washed away, Severus did not see the warm teacher, the generous instructor Albus had been and still was, gone was the benevolent man, champion of _the side of the Light_ as some enjoyed calling him. The war leader was standing before Severus, the leader who had resigned himself to the necessary task that had be achieved. In such a moment, Peter Pettigrew no longer was a former student, nor was Severus.

Severus nodded with a grim determination and took a few steps to reach Pettigrew' s side. He pointed his wand at his left temple and took hold of the man' s chin with a firm grip, and soon, Severus met the dreadfully blank eyes, rimmed with red. And soon, Severus delved into the void of his former _schoolmate_' s mind, thrusting himself into the abyss from which he hoped to escape unscathed.


	20. Another Meeting

**Disclaimer : Chapter 19 online, chapter 21 on the way ;) **

**Thank you everyone! Enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>Another Meeting<strong>

'Which is why we think that Peter must have been sent by Voldemort himself for a mission Severus was not privy of.' Dumbledore concluded.

This announcement was met with many looks of surprise, and almost at once, several members of the Order glanced at Snape, which was as stiff as a marble statue, lips pursed, his face twisted in a grimace. Sirius outright glowered at him, and did not bother to hide it, to which Snape responded with a very unpleasant snarl of his own he too, did not bother to conceal from the other people' eyes. Of course, it had to be Snivellus not knowing the right things at the right moment, that git, that bastard. 'Unable to do his job properly, Sirius wildly thought, who is the useless one now, Snape?'

Seeing Snape failing something was a vindictive pleasure, seeing the sneering idiot being knocked down a peg or two felt wonderful and helped Sirius delegate his frustration on something much more concrete than wine bottles. He could not help smirking at his old _classmate_, he would have clapped enthusiastically at Snape' s failure had Dumbledore not been in the same room. But even in his cheerfulness, Sirius knew that such a gesture would be quite ill-thought of in present company, he would keep the warm congratulations for later, oh yes, and he would take an immense pleasure in doing it.

The Order had been summoned that night, exactly one week after the previous meeting, and Dumbledore was keeping them all informed of the situation. Sirius had just spent an entire week alone in the godforsaken family house, every single member had been sent on various missions and none had the chance to stop at Grimmauld Place, it had been a miserable week, which had left Sirius with plenty of occasions to brood and to drown his frustration in wine. So, it was with glee that he heard the news of Snape' s uselessness, Sneering Snivellus mocking him at every turn for _remaining in his mother's house_ while others were risking their necks in the outside world. Hearing his own uselessness from Snape' s mouth was unbearable.

'But Pettigrew was sent _abroad_, Albus?' Arthur asked, frowning. 'What business would You-Know-Who have abroad?'

Dumbledore did not answer but merely made a gesture urging Snape to speak up, a sign Snape did not take kindly and scowled at him, though he did spoke up after a few moments, as if the man was carefully considering what he was going to say to the present assembly, every member of which was looking at him inquiringly, ordering him to give them all some kind of explanation as to _why _he could have omitted such crucial information. Sirius noticed that Snape did look slightly unnerved by the unconscious examination he was being subjected to, but he tried his best to conceal his uneasiness to the others, and utterly failed as far as Sirius was concerned.

'I am as surprised as all of you are.' He heard Snape saying, his teeth clenched. 'Had I had the faintest inkling of what the Dark Lord intended to do, I would have reported it at once. He does not put all his secrets in the same basket.'

When he uttered the last sentence, he threw an almost imperceptible glance at Dumbledore, who merely smiled pleasantly in response.

'However' Snape went on, 'We should not find surprising that he wished to extend his...ah _influence_ over the British borders, he did it during the last war, although not quite as outrightly as he is intending to do today. Whatever mission Pettigrew had, it cannot have been anything of great importance, for the memories we managed to gain access to held few actual interactions with foreigners, if none at all. Perhaps he was sent to spy on a particular individual, in a specific wizarding institution, or perhaps he was supposed to gather general information, or specific information, we can only do guesswork. Albus and I only had one hour to screen Pettigrew' s mind, not decades.'

His tone held such a finality that no one dared to question his assessments, no one, except Sirius, who snorted loudly, attracting a look of disapproval from Remus, who was sitting right across from him, and another glare from Snape himself.

'Do you think he would try to recruit new followers outside Britain?' Kingsley asked pensively, his deep smoothing voice dissolving the tension that had seized the room, 'Well, that is rather a rhetorical question, I suppose, but such a development would not be very favourable to us. How many foreign wizards do you think Voldemort would be able to gather, Severus?'

'It is impossible to tell, he had many connections abroad last time, but it took him years to achieve such a result' Snape answered curtly. 'Convincing wizards with significantly different morals and interests is not something accomplished in a fortnight, he could gather a dozen of foreign wizards or several hundred of them for all we know. It has been less than a year since he is back, and while we all know that many things have been sped up these last months, he remained essentially focused on Britain, for the moment.'

Snape' s answer left the room pensive, each pondering on the possibility of Voldemort attempting such a thing. It was then only several minutes later that Moody intervened and said in a grunt :

'Obviously, Voldemort has taken steps to ensure some kind of connections abroad, he could be looking for a weapon, or a person, or for information, we don't know yet, but I'm most curious to hear how you managed to get through the remaining defenses around the rat' s mind, Snape. Albus here only told us the strict minimum about how you achieved such a _feat_'

Snape' s eyes narrowed at him.

'Certainly, you must have your idea on the matter, _Mad-Eye_' Snape spat.

Moody responded with a crooked smile of his own, his face more grotesque than ever as the scars that marred his face twisted his features. The others observed this exchange silently, but even if most of them would not admit it aloud, Moody did have a point, and his question had peaked their interest.

'And no, the Dark Mark did not allow me to examine Pettigrew' s mind, only Legilimency could bring the remaining defenses down, but the man' s mind was already tore to shred, and we should consider ourselves lucky that we have found anything at all' Snape retorted sharply, his tone betraying aggressivity he could hardly concealed.

'_Tore to shred_'

Sirius did not hear what Snape said next as his mind wrapped around what Snape had just said. '_Tore to shred_', whoever attacked Pettigrew had broken him and reduced what was left of the filthy rat to an unresponsive shell. His former best friend, the man Sirius had wished dearly to tear down to pieces was now dying, he did not know how he was supposed to feel about it, he was not happy, or glad, nor was he miserable or sad, he felt..._hollow_. His mind wandered back to the memories he had retained (or what Azkaban had allowed him to retain from these happy times) from his Hogwarts years, and he thought of Peter at the time he still was Peter, one of his best friends, not very talented, indecisive little Peter hiding in the shadow of those who were more powerful than him, hiding behind James and Sirius. He remembered laughters, the afternoons they had spent by this tree near the lake, the winter evenings spent in the common room, arguments they all had, the pranks. '_Where was all this gone to?_' Sirius thought wistfully. Swept off by the flow of Life, carrying good times away, bringing infinitely darker times. That evening, in October 1981, it was Halloween, and then Sirius remembered the grief, oppressive, choking painful words out of him, his sorrow mingled with tears, and Pettigrew, the night Peter had become Pettigrew.

Sirius brought his hand to his forehead and began rubbing it unconsciously.

'...no indication of the place?' He heard Moody say.

'I think I would have told it if we knew it.'

'Nothing else of importance apart from what you've told us so far?' Moody inquired harshly.

Snape let out a strangled noise, fury etched on his face. He leaned a bit forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table and he looked ready to throw a very sharp retort at Moody but Dumbledore, sensing that they were treading on dangerous waters, cut him off before Snape even opened his mouth :

'Thank you, Alastor' Dumbledore coolly said.

Moody merely shrugged but eyed Snape with a dubious eye, something that amused Sirius to no end.

Everyone was carefully avoiding looking at Snape, who was now seething with anger and eying every person sitting around the table with contempt. Sirius merely smirked at him before giving Dumbledore his full attention :

'We do not know exactly where Peter was sent before he was attacked, and we do not know who the attacker was, it indeed seems that whoever it was carefully wiped any memory Peter might have retained from the attack.' Dumbledore declared. 'The attacker only left a faint magical trace behind him, or her' Dumbledore emphasized. 'And unless Peter is removed from his current cell, I am afraid that we will not be able to know much more about what exactly happened to him, and I doubt any of us will be able to get near him. Amelia did grant us access once, but it is dubious that she will be able to do so a second time, her hands are tied and obtaining the first authorization was tricky enough. Emmeline' He suddenly said 'is there any way you could have Peter transferred to St Mungo's?'

Emmeline looked up at Dumbledore and sharply straighten up on her chair. She then nodded vigorously and said :

'I'll see what I can do, Albus'

Dumbledore looked at her in way that somehow indicated that trying was not an option, but the witch stared back at him with an unmistakable resolution, and she nodded again, as if sealing a bargain. He titled his head slightly, and spoke up :

'Very well, I think it is time for this meeting to come at an end, for there is not much we can do at the present time.'

He threw one last fluttering glance at Emmeline.


	21. Like a Damn Criminal

**Disclaimer : Chapter 20 online! Quite a short one as well, the length of chapter 19 initially reached 3.200 words, but I decided to cut it into two parts, therefore here is the second part! You may get to read chapter 21 a bit earlier than sunday, as this one is quite short, perhaps on saturday, or even friday if I can manage it ;) **

**Thanks everyone who've added this fic' to their alerts, who reviewed it! Enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>"Like a Damn Criminal"<strong>

'So I wish you all a good evening' He went on in a pleasant tone 'And I recommend the greatest caution, to you all' He surveyed everyone sitting at the table with a knowing look, his eyes stopping on every member then present.

Remus and Kingsley motioned to get up from their chair, and Bill and Arthur gathered the papers left on the table. Snape left immediately, his abrupt departure had now ceased to surprise the members, so no one said a thing as the entrance door was slammed shut, indicating that their ill-esteemed _colleague _was now effectively gone. Sirius stranded to the basement and quickly picked a bottle of wine he fully intended to uncork and to share with the remaining members of the Order, but Dumbledore had followed him outside the kitchen. Sirius had his hand on the handle of the door leading down to the wine-cellar when Dumbledore called after him, his calm voice disturbing the surrounding air, dust flying around him as he walked toward Sirius.

'_This corridor will need some cleaning_' Sirius absentmindedly thought.

'Ah Sirius, I did not want to speak of the topic when the others were present' He heard Dumbledore say. 'Amelia has kept me informed of your situation at the Ministry, and she believes you will soon be tried before the Wizengamot.'

Sirius turned around looked up at his former teacher, his eyes glinting with something indefinable. He stepped back a bit, and looked at him straight in the eyes, as if he were looking for some disguised meaning, for something he feared he might have not grasped. His hand was still resting on the handle, Sirius looked down at it and turned it more forcefully than he intended to.

Dumbledore observed the display with apparent indifference, but he took one step forward and went on:

'We have considered the matter, and we both think, and I am sure you do too, Sirius, that you cannot appear miraculously on the Ministry' s doorstep.'

Dumbledore' s choice of words appealed to Sirius. "_Appearing miraculously_", it reminded way too much of Pettigrew' s capture for Sirius' comfort, and Sirius was pretty sure it was exactly what Dumbledore had intended. Sirius stood very still, frowning, his shoulders very stiff.

'Yes' Sirius finally replied.

'Yes' He repeated, 'It seems obvious.'

His tone was sharp, cold, distant, but the wizard seem completely unfazed by his former student' s demeanour.

'As Kingsley is the one in charge of your...re-capture, we think it best to have him bringing you to the Ministry. There will be no fighting though, may it be fake or real, Kingsley will merely...ah_, find _you here and lead you to the Ministry.'

Sirius let out a mirthless laugh, his bark-like voice resounding through the corridor.

"Isn't it convenient? And you couldn't have told me about it any earlier, could you, _Dumbledore_?' He spat. 'Even the Ministry isn't idiotic enough to believe that my capture is pure coincidence, especially when Amelia' s department is organising a full trial'

'This fact is not public knowledge, Amelia has been careful to only include people who have our full confidence...'

'Who have _your _full _confidence_' Sirius sneered as he uttered this last word.

'I do not deny it, but it is essential that you let Amelia organise it. Our hands are tied, she is the only one who can change your situation at the moment, you have to trust her, Sirius.'

'I do trust her, Dumbledore, I'm just not sure I trust _you_ on this particular matter!' Sirius shouted at him.

The old man made him incredibly angry, so angry. He could not bear Dumbledore' s hypocrisy any longer, where was the man fifteen years ago? How easy had it been for him to believe that Sirius was the one who had betrayed them all? How easy had it been to close his eyes when the Ministry carted him off to Azkaban without so much as a hearing?

And there Dumbledore entered, bearer of _good_ new, and so was Sirius presented with a very real possibility of a trial, a fully held trial, before the Wizengamot. Fear was now sparking up in Sirius' mind, fear and resentment, resentment toward his old Headmaster, fear of losing the little freedom he had managed to retain out of Azkaban.

Dumbledore blinked, but he went on, and on:

'I know how resentful you are, Sirius, and you have every right to lay the blame on me. I am ready to shoulder the full responsibility of the twelve years you spent in Azkaban, but you cannot have your judgment clouded by your resentment, not now.'

'You have no right to tell what I should do and what I should not do, Dumbledore!' He snarled, and he pointed an accusative finger at him. 'You're the one who left me in that hellish place, you just sat in your cozy little office, passively, not even bothering not get me a hearing. You just closed your eyes on the entire situation! Tell me Dumbledore, tell me just how easy it has been to let me rot in Azkaban like a damn criminal?'

Dumbledore now looked pained, but he did not falter under Sirius' glare. Sirius, however, rented some more :

'How could you have believed _I_ betrayed James and Lily? How could you Dumbledore?'

The older wizard did not answer, he merely stood there.

"Answer me.' Sirius icily ordered him.

Dumbledore looked down, his solemn face now obscured by the ridiculous pointed hat he wore that night.

'ANSWER ME!' Sirius shrieked.

Oh, how he wanted to shake the old man by his shoulder, to shake him hard, until the man crumbled on the ground, until the man was begging for forgiveness. He had been bottling all this for months, years even, and he had waited a long time, he had waited for Dumbledore to face what he had done all these years ago. And Sirius was glad, glad that he was the one to rightfully put the blame where it rightfully belonged, glad that he was the one to force Dumbledore to confront his monumental mistake, a mistake that had come down to too high a price for Sirius, a mistake that had cost him twelve years of his life, a mistake that brought Sirius down to Hell, a mistake for which Dumbledore was paying, at last.

When Dumbledore finally looked up, his face was impassible, but his glinting eyes expressed all the misery, all the regrets and the remorse Sirius' words had awoken. Faraway feelings, whose fistful sleep had been interrupted, feelings on which the old man had never lingered, for he had been afraid of what they would bring along.

Sirius avoided the man' s eyes, panting, trying his best to restrain himself from physically harming Dumbledore, because even in his raving state, he knew just how it would end for him if he attacked his old teacher. He punched the nearest wall, once, and then another time. He fell kneeling on the ground, his hand in his prematurely old hand, his shoulders shaking with sobs he could not contain.

Dumbledore too, then knelt down, in front of his former student, whose distress caused the old teacher a great pain, and then said in a calm voice :

'You have not let me finish Sirius, Amelia also mentioned the possibility of your getting custody of Harry, although it will not be done before some times, she reckons you have good chances to be Harry' s guardian, for good.'

Sirius went still and sharply retorted, his voice harsh with tears :

'DO NOT bring Harry into this, old man!'

'I am fairly sure this was what you have wanted ever since you escaped, Sirius?'

'You will NOT use him as a carrot, I am not your little donkey, do you _understand_ Dumbledore?' He almost screamed.

'My dear boy, it is be the last thing I would do' Dumbledore started, but Sirius cut him off because he could go any further.

'Is it? Is it?' Sirius wildly said, his eyes seemingly mad. 'You have lost my trust fifteen years ago, and you won't regain it before long!'

Dumbledore' s shoulders drooped as Sirius uttered these unforgiving words.

'Now get away, Dumbledore.'

The icy tone with which Sirius said that left no room for refusal. But Dumbledore did not move, he looked as if he was going to put his hand on his student's shoulder, but decided against it as Sirius threw him a ferocious glare and moved out of his reach.

'Get. Away.' He growled.

But still, Dumbledore would not move from where he was kneeling.

'GET AWAY!' Sirius finally yelled.

And so Albus Dumbledore fled the house, away from Sirius Black' s wrath, the last thing Sirius saw of the bloody man was the ludicrous midnight blue cloak the man wore that evening.

And so was Sirius Black left to his dark thoughts, in the silent house, then deserted by most of the members of the Order who had thought it wise to leave when they had heard Sirius' screams reverberating through the corridor.

Except Remus, who was standing in the doorway, a pained look on his tired face. He walked toward Sirius, hesitatingly, tentatively, and once he had reached him, he helped him back on his feet and led him to upstairs.


	22. Gibberish

**Dislaimer : Here is chapter 21, a bit earlier than usual (not much earlier than usual, but still :P) as I promised :) I really want to thank all the people who added this fiction to their story alert, I received a wave of notifications this week, and this is very encouraging, thank you, to all of you :) **

**I'll get started on chapter 22 very soon and you'll get to read it next wednesday, as usual ;) **

**Enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>"Gibberish"<strong>

Privet Drive was calm that evening, nothing disturbed its (almost) constant calm and certainly nothing disturbed Vernon Dursley' s week-end. It had been a quiet Saturday so far, and as relaxing as a week-end could be, especially after a long week of hard-work spent at the drill company Vernon run. He sighed contently, his glassy eyes throwing lazy glances around the living-room, Petunia was there as well, reading the magazine he had brought her up the previous day, her eyes carefully screening the content of the articles and devouring it whenever it peaked Petunia' s interest. Vernon' s beefy face screwed up into a languid smile, his family was one of the thing he was the most proud of, the close second being his professional career, and there was not a single shadow to ruin his perfect frame. He got back to his own reading, and soon his self-satisfied expression shifted into one of intense concentration as he deciphered the content of the newspaper his stubby hands were holding.

At some point, he heard Dudley coming back home, and he glanced at the clock. It read 6 o'clock. It was time to go for their night out. Vernon slowly folded his newspaper and tossed it on the coffee table that sat right in front of you, he laboriously got up on his feet and exited the living room. As he walked out of the room, he saw Petunia following him and then, the both of them climbed the stairs so as to get themselves ready for their little family outing, a satisfied smile plastered over their faces.

On their way to the bedroom, Petunia called out for Dudley to get prepared, for they would leave some 10 minutes later, and it would not do for such a gentleman as himself to arrive late at the restaurant. She carefully opened the door leading to her son's bedroom and told him they were expected at 6.30. Vernon' s smile broadened even more as he heard his son' s cheerful answer, and he chuckled happily as his thoughts turned to his only son. According to Vernon, Dudley was all a father could ever hope to ask for a son, oh he sure had his little flaws, but he was such a talented boy, and well on the way to success. It did make Vernon proud, and his glee did not lesson even when he passed his nephew' s bedroom. He turned around and looked fondly at both his wife and son, then standing in the hallway, as his hand was looking for the handle of Vernon and Petunia' s own bedroom.

The door opened easily, but not without giving off a creaking sound, but Vernon paid no attention whatsoever and only motioned toward the heavy wardrobe that stood across the large bed. He rummaged through the shirts and trousers and eventually found what he was looking for : his black suit, fresh from the laundry Petunia had made that afternoon. He cautiously took it out from the wardrobe and laid it out on the bed, and he spent a few seconds admiring it before giving a slight start at his wife' s voice asking him whether he was finished or not. He then quickly dressed up and he was adjusting his grey tie when Petunia entered the room.

A few moments later, the entire Dursley family was standing in the entrance hall, Petunia was fixing a mere thing or two and Dudley was tidying himself up, he was wearing a heavy suit, very like his father' s, but the vest was so thick that he was starting to think that settling for this particular suit had perhaps been a bad idea as he was already hot, and perspiration was gathering at the top of his forehead. He wiped the sweat off and threw an anxious look at his mother, who merely nodded encouragingly at him, a loving smile on her bony face. He saw his father unlocking the entrance door and a icy cold draught swept over Dudley. One by one, they walked out of the house, Petunia shivering a bit from the bitter cold outside, and soon, the three of them were sitting in the car, fully ready to enjoy what this evening could offer them. They drove for a short time, and Vernon parked the car near the restaurant.

They were quietly heading to the restaurant when what would disturb their peaceful evening happened. A loud and sudden thud was heard in the street, and it soon was followed by three or four others. A man was now standing before the Dursleys, Petunia and Dudley let out small screams at the sudden appearance of the stranger, who was wearing a ridiculous purple hat and an emerald-green jacket. Vernon was ready to berate whoever dared to scare his family in such a manner, but he was stopped half-way as he noticed the stranger' s expression, and he knew it could not bide well for him and his family. The man was wearing an expression of total panic, he was throwing mad glances around him, his fear etched into his features. What stroke Vernon the most was the fact that the man was holding a wooden stick, not unlike the one he saw his blasted nephew carry.

_One of the boy' s lot?_ Vernon angrily thought, his temper steadily rising.

'What the hell are you...' Vernon roared, spit flying around the poor man' s face.

'You can't stay here!' The man urgently told them, cutting Vernon in his attempt to shout at him. 'You must go back to your home, I'll lead you there, but quickly, you're in danger, they're coming, please, hurry, HURRY! Or they'll catch us, they're already there!'

He said all this in such a rapid and disjointed way that Vernon thought the man sounded mad enough not to get near that stranger, but his words worried him a lot, and he knew that they all had to leave the place immediately.

He grabbed his wife' s shoulder, and then his son' s shoulder and turned around to lead them back to the car, but the man caught Vernon' s wrist and shook frantically his head, and raved some more :

'Not this way, NO! I can take you straight back home, it's going to take a few seconds, but you can't go this way, this is urgent, NOW!'

The man started to rotate on the spot, but Vernon shook him off, a resentful and disgusted twisting his face, and the stranger fell heavily on the ground.

It all happened at once.

Black cloaked-figure were now standing on each side of the pavement, pointing sticks at them, one of them shouted something, the hoarse voice cutting through the tension that had been building up ever since the stranger man' s appearance. The latter was still on the ground, and abruptly turned his head. A green light erupted from seemingly nowhere, and, as he put up his arms in a vain attempt to shield himself from what he knew was coming to him, was blasted off the ground and, in what seemed a very long time, heavily fell on the hard cobblestone pavement, his askew hat now hiding the night sky from his now-unseeing eyes, a look of surprise forever etched on his face.

Petunia screamed.

Dudley screamed.

Vernon was petrified, rooted to the spot, his mouth open in a silent scream of fear.

He turned around, and he saw more figures standing in the street.

Wands pointed at them now, many wands, too many for Vernon to care to actually count them.

He did not understand.

'_Avada Kedavra_!' He heard two of them shouting.

Petunia and Dudley were hit by the green light.

He did not want to understand.

They fell.

No...

On the ground.

No.

Hard.

'NO!' He bawled.

He barely had the time to turn around and to hear another shout.

'_Avada Kedavra_!'

_What kind of gibberish was that?_

He would never get to understand.

* * *

><p>Far, far away from the restaurant the Dursleys were supposed to dine that night, far in the north of the country, in Scotland, at Hogwarts. A crystal ball glowed red, a dark red, a sinister colour now surrounded the polished glass. Albus Dumbledore looked up from the paperwork he was working on, he looked up and saw the crystal ball, he saw it and rushed to it, and peered at it. His face darkened, he closed his eyes, but his eyes shot open almost immediately. He laid the artifact down on the small table, and took out his wand. He chanted an incantation, and three magnificent sliver phoenixes burst out from the tip of the wand and flew off gracefully.<p>

Albus rotated on the spot, and disappeared in a loud thud.

The red light had dimmed by then.

Soon, the crystal ball looked perfectly normal again.


	23. Bad News and SelfConfidence Issues

**Disclaimer : Oh, now I feel bad. A bit more than 3 weeks I haven't updated, I am so sorry! I didn't expect to be so busy at university and in my life beside school as well, I had a whole bunch of exams, which left me few occasion to spare several hours to write a chapter or two, and I still have a few exams coming up but I will soon be on holidays, therefore I can safely claim that the normal publishing rate will be back to normal. I wrote up this one (which is a bit longer than usual) so that you all know that I'm still writing this story and I have no intention to stop it. I think the next chapter will be online next sunday, and from then, I'll be back to two chapters a week.**

**Thank you to everyone who read the story, and also to those few who might have checked the story every so often to see whether a new chapter was published or not (the sort of thing I do) and I am sorry for the delay!**

**Enjoy! ;)**

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><p><strong>Bad News and Self-Confidence Issues<strong>

He cast a look around the Greenhouse n°3 and saw Ron and Hermione talking to one another animatedly, Hermione making wild gestures with her hands and Ron frowning at her, shaking his head and pointing at the plant that sat in front of them. Arguing about the way Fanged Geraniums were best handled, he supposed. What they did not notice, however, was said Geranium that was right under their nose, snapping its tiny jaws, trying to bite their fingers that were dangerously close the flower's sharp teeth. Neville blinked a few times and shook his head, some things would never change in this ever-changing world, that was comforting, in a way, but perhaps it was time for the two Gryffindors to realise what had been going on between them for about 5 years, Neville thought that the Yule Ball debacle should have been enough to make them both see the light, but it seemed that they were as blind as bats and kept tip-toeing around each other. He gave Harry a discreet look of sympathy, Harry who rolled his eyes and, pointing at his friends, shrugged, wordlessly telling Neville that he was far too used to the situation to care much about how many times this day they had been arguing. Neville's lip stretched into a small smile and he turned back to the matter at hand.

It was Herbology lesson, the last lesson of the day. Ten minutes before the end of the school day actually, and Neville had already handled the task they were supposed to complete, so there was not much to do for him except waiting for the bell to ring, that would effectively dismiss every student present. His thoughts wandered a bit, and lingered on the Potions essay Snape set earlier that day and was due for the end of the week. Neville winced almost imperceptibly as he thought of the announced disaster that he was sure to bring about : now that they all had moved on to Strengthening Draft, which was infinitely more complicated than the previous potions Snape had set them, Neville was quite certain to fail, to fail abysmally.

Neville's contrite look went unnoticed by all. He gathered his things and slung his bag over his shoulder, not paying much attention to what he was putting into his schoolbag (he did try to fit the plant into his bag, almost earning a bite from the fragile-looking plant) and as soon as the bell had rung, he took his time to leave the classroom, lingering a bit to have a good look at several plants he found interesting (and he carefully avoided getting near the Venomous Tentacula) before turing toward the classroom door. He was about to leave the place when he heard Professor Sprout calling him :

'Mr. Longbottom! Could you please come here?' She shouted from the adjacent greenhouse.

Naturally, Neville walked over to her, and once he was there, she wasted no time and told him :

'Ah Longbottom, oh, no don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong!' She added reassuringly as soon as she saw the look of anxiety etched upon Neville' s face. 'No, no, I just wanted to talk to you about the Mimbulus Mimbletonia you brought here in September, would you be interesting in a side-project in Herbology?'

A side-project? _Me_? Neville thought, perplexity seizing him.

Somehow, his hesitation must have shown for his professor smiled at him kindly, and went on in a softer tone :

'This way, you could earn extra credit, I had a meeting a few days ago with fellow herbologists, and they brought up several interesting points about this particular plant, but it needs testing and I'm quite busy at the moment there's not much I'll be able to do in the near future, naturally, you can refuse, but I thought it'd be a nice opportunity for you to test out your talents out of the academic sphere'

Neville stood there, completely bewildered by what his teacher had just told him, why would she choose him over others that were as talented as he was, that were _more _talented than he was? Of course, he would be delighted to take on this project, but why on earth would she choose him? Why _him_?

'M..m...my ta..talents?' He spluttered.

'Your talents, Mr. Longbottom, yes' Professor Sprout answered him , her tone confident and sure.

'B..but _why me_?'

There, the question he was itching to ask, asked, bluntly, quickly, hesitation marking the three words he had just uttered.

'You, Mr. Longbottom' Professor Sprout started. '_You_ are the best student I have, you have talents in the Herbology field, far more talents than your peers'

'But Hermione?' Neville stammered, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

'You are better than Miss Granger in Herbology, Mr Longbottom, she is remarkably talented for academics, but I'm not talking about academics, I'm talking about what's out of the school sphere, about something which takes more than books to achieve'

Neville threw her a puzzled look.

She merely smiled at his reaction, a few spots of dirt she had not scrubbed off yet on her kind and plump face.

'Certainly, you don't think that your life would be summed up by how well you perform at arbitrary tests? Even though many people think it's the case, school can only teach you so much.'

Neville flashed her a sheepish smile.

'I'm certain you'll excel at the task, Neville, or I wouldn't have offered you the opportunity'

The use of his name shook something in him, he blinked and threw her a surprised look.

'Should I take this as a yes, or as a no?' She asked him, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

'Hem, err...yes! I'll...I'll do it' He finished lamely.

'Excellent! Meet me in my office tomorrow evening at 7, make sure you bring this remarkable Mimbulus Mimbletonia with you, and we'll proceed to the tasks you'll carry out'

* * *

><p>When Neville was on his way back to the castle, he could barely contained himself as he strode across the strip of lawn that stretched from the Greenhouse to the entrance of the castle. There was a huge grin on his face, and he was almost bouncing his way up to the Common Room.<p>

He could not believe it, he could not believe that his Professor had chosen _him_, out of all the students Professor Sprout could have picked, she picked him, not Hermione, nor Ernie, _him_, Neville Longbottom, awkwardness at its finest, the average student (well, except in Potions, obviously), unremarkable and as plain as the day. To say that Neville was happy was an understatement, he was ecstatic. So ecstatic, in fact, that he did not notice Professor Dumbledore calling him. Oblivious to everything around him, he had almost reached the portrait of the Fat Lady when he noticed the Headmaster walking toward him. He blushed up a little and spluttered a greeting to the older wizard, at which Dumbledore merely smiled, eyes twinkling and all.

'Good evening, Mr Longbottom.' Dumbledore kindly told him. 'I was wondering if you could help me deliver a message to your fellow student, Mr. Potter. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find him, would you?'

A quizzical look shot across Neville's anxious face as he pondered on whether he had seen Harry or not on his way up to the 6th floor.

'I don't think I have seen him, Sir' Neville replied, shaking his head.

'Ah, no matter then, but if you see him, would you be so kind as to tell him that I expect him in my office? Oh, and make sure you inform him that raspberry jam is my favourite' Dumbledore happily told him, winking at the now-blushing student who was blushing up as he tried to decipher what the Headmaster had just told him.

'I will tell him, Sir'

'That is most kind of you, my boy' Dumbledore said, titling his head. 'I wish you a pleasant evening, Mr. Longbottom'

'Thank you, Sir' Neville mumbled. 'You too, Sir' He finished lamely.

With a last smile, Dumbledore turned around and stranded along the corridor and soon disappeared from Neville's view, Neville who found himself quite embarrassed now at the little display he had pulled off in the Headmaster's presence.

Sure he was not remotely as scared of Dumbledore as he was of Snape, but the older wizard sure was quite intimidating in his very own way, and Neville still found himself and mumbling indistinct words to the man. And even though the DA's lessons proved to be quite the boost for Neville's self-confidence, he still was a bit insecure about many aspects of his life and it would take quite a time for Neville to get over his natural shyness and clumsiness.

The one positive thing about it all, Neville thought absentmindedly as he pushed open the portrait, was that he was working on it.

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><p>Harry's face was screwed in concentration as he was trying to understand the paragraph he had just read in the book about Occlumency Snape had "lent" (for lack of better words) him. He did not get the part about how he was supposed to actually <em>use<em> his mental shields to protect himself from "external influences" as Snape liked to put it. A noise of frustration escaped him and he puffed, he could already hear his teacher berating him but he decided to leave his reading for now, and to come back to it a bit later, when his frustration and irritation would have steamed off a bit. He closed the book sharply and tossed it carelessly into his schoolbag. He then get up from the comfortable armchair he had chosen for himself, and threw a look around. He was standing in the Room of Requirement and he had designed the place into the room in which Snape and him had their latest Occlumency lesson, and, although he would loathe to admit it, Harry quite liked this cozy spot, shut off from the rest of the school and far from the other students' relentless whispering. He almost regretted leaving the room as he closed the door behind him and found himself in the deserted 7th floor corridor. He flung his bag on his shoulder and slowly made his way back to the Common Room, where he knew Ron and Hermione would be waiting for him to return from his little...ah _lonely_ session, as strange as it might sound, and where he knew other students would only be too glad to glare at him for a virtual crime he had supposedly committed.

_Nothing much, though_, Harry derisively thought, _just screaming Voldemort' s return at the top of my lung_.

He sighed, he really could not wait for the day the truth would finally be out, as horrible this day would be though, it would be a relief not to be thought of as a unstable and dangerous individual who ought to be carted off to St. Mungo' s.

Surely, he told himself as he was standing in front of the entrance leading to the Common Room, facing the Basilisk was much worse than facing a room packed with hostile Gryffindors, wasn't it?

He gave the password to the Fat Lady and got in, not paying much attention to the people surrounding him and solely focused on finding Ron and Hermione in the wave of faces that looked up when he entered the place. He spotted them soon enough, sitting at a wobbly table with Neville Longbottom, whispering between themselves and smiling at him as he was walking toward them. He settled on the chair Ron had drawn for him and quietly, they resumed their conversation and Harry caught up with what they had been talking about, namely Neville's new side-project.

'Professor Sprout chose you, Neville?' Harry asked pleasantly, to which Neville replied with a shy nod. 'Well that's not surprising, you know, you're the best in Herbology class, you're the best choice she could've made.'

Neville' s cheeks tinted a bright red.

'Well' Neville answered somewhat hesitatingly. 'I really thought she could've have chosen Hermione instead...'

'Don't be silly, Neville.' Hermione cut him off. 'You really are the best in Herbology in our year' She added brightly and encouragingly.

Neville's cheeks were now an interesting shade of crimson.

'Yeah, mate' Ron added. 'Don't get so shaken up about Sprout' s decision, she's got a point y'know, it's time you realise just how good you are at stuffs, I know Snape and the likes don't help much, but since when their opinions mattered?'

Hermione stared at Ron as he said that, since when did Ronald Weasley lecture anyone on self-confidence?

The three boys, however, remained blissfully oblivious to Hermione's stare and then switched to Quidditch and to the upcoming match against Slytherin.

Neville, though, started up as he suddenly remembered something :

'Harry!' He said quite loudly, attracting looks from people around them. 'Harry' He repeated in a lower voice. 'I've completely forgotten, Dumbledore's waiting for you in his office, he told me to tell you to go to his office if I saw you.'

Harry looked quite surprised at that.

'He did?'

His tone, however, was as cold as ice as he remembered the treatment the Headmaster had been giving him for several months.

'Yes, and he...he also told me that his favourite was raspberry jam' Neville added, a frown creasing his forehead as he tried to understand the meaning of such a trivial precision. 'And I don't think you'll be able to push it off, it sounded like it was important.' He quickly added as he saw Harry crossing his arms on his chest like a pouting child, a look of discontent firmly settled on his face.

Harry raised his eyebrows and let his arms dangle a bit before grasping his schoolbag. He stood up and, rolling his eyes, made his way back to the entrance and exited the place, leaving Hermione and Ron to their puzzlement.

Dumbledore wanted to see him, fine, _fine_. He was in for quite the earful if he wanted to see him then. He walked at a very quick pace in the corridors, sometimes shouldering his way through the halls packed with students on their way to dinner, and soon enough, he was barking the password to the Gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He swiftly climbed up the stairs and he was standing in front of the oak door of the office in no time. He could hear hushed voices carrying through the heavy door, and, determinedly, he knocked loudly.

He heard Dumbledore' s voice granting him entrance. He took one long breath and he turned the handle, and opened the door.

There were only two people present in there, Professor Dumbledore himself, and Professor McGonagall, her face a very somber expression, her eyes almost sinister. Professor Dumbledore fared no better : the usual twinkle in his piercing blue eyes was absent, and he looked solemn, ominously so, Harry thought.

And this effectively put a damper on Harry' s first intention of shouting his heart out to the old wizard, and he was not so keen on hearing out what the Headmaster had to tell him, for he was pretty sure that his grave demeanour could not mean good news.

'You...you wanted to see me Professor?' Harry uncertainly asked, dread slowly creeping on him as Professor McGonagall gave him an unfathomable kind of look.

But the Headmaster would not bring himself to look at Harry in the eyes, no, he was looking somewhere behind Harry, but not _at_ Harry, which irritated the younger wizard a lot.

'Harry' Dumbledore said, his tone grave. 'Harry, we have been looking for you for some times, my boy.'

Harry looked down uneasily, of course they did not find him, he had shut himself off for two solid hours, in an unpottable room, and he did so with an enthusiatic willingness.

'I am afraid we do not have good news, we found it preferable to wait until the end of lessons to break the news to you, my boy.'

And now, change the "we" into a nice "_Me, Professor Dumbledore, the one who insists on controlling your life but who is __also __quite insisting on ignoring you whenever we have the misfortune to meet_".

But somehow, Harry' s irritation toward Professor Dumbledore was lessened as he braced himself for the blow he knew he would have to stomach when the Headmaster would deliver _the bad news_.

'Harry' Dumbledore said. 'Harry' He repeated. 'There has been an attack on Saturday evening, in Surrey.'

Surrey. An attack.

Harry' s stomach gave a jolt as the full implication of Dumbledore's words made their way into his brain.

_An attack._

'Your relatives were attacked, by Death Eaters' Dumbledore went on. 'I am sorry, Harry, my boy, none of them survived.'

The Dursleys..._dead?_


	24. Twist and Turn

**Disclaimer :** **Finally, I got chapter 23 written :) I hesitated a lot for this chapter about the way Harry should react to this particular piece of news, I hope I managed to get it credible enough. As I progress through the story, I realise that I don't write about much in one single chapter, I let little pieces of information here and there, but nothing really groundbreaking I suppose :P Which is why I expect the chapters to be very numerous and I still have no idea about the sheer length that this story will reach.**

**Anyway, I will try my best to maintain the 2 chapters-a-week pattern, but as I can't exactly write on demand, it may vary every so often, or you may even get 3 chapters a week, as well as you may get one chapter a week. **

**A big "thank you" to every single person who have added this story to their favourite/alerts. And a big "thank you" to anyone who is actually reading this! :)**

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><p><strong>Twist and Turn<strong>

It hit Harry hard in the face.

Uncle Vernon, dead.

Aunt Petunia, dead.

_Dudley_, dead.

Everyone knew, and Harry most of all, that there was no lost love between his relative and him, but no one knew the shock he would receive at this particular announcement.

Harry blinked, his shoulders drooped and he was staring at Dumbledore, his lips mouthing a silent question :

_How_?

'Your relatives' He heard Dumbledore say. 'were on an outing, on Saturday evening. Death Eaters ambushed them, there was no way out for them.'

Dumbledore brought his hand to his forehead and began rubbing mechanically a invisible spot.

But Harry remained oblivious to this gesture as shock was coursing through him, rooting him on the spot. It was perhaps one of the most confusing moment of his life, how was he supposed to feel about it all?

These cruel relatives of his ;

Gone.

Those who made his childhood a living hell ;

Wipped away from the face of the Earth.

Those who berated him, belittled him, despised him ;

Dead.

And yet..._and yet_ Dudley' s face kept popping up in Harry' s mind, his puffy face, a boy who was Harry' s age, his cousin, a boy whose parents' influence over him led him down a path seldom taken by respectable citizens. A most ironic turn of event, considering the despise Uncle Vernon sported for the kind of people Dudley turned out to be.

Uncle Vernon.

Harry gave a slight start.

Fourteen years of solid dislike could not have brought Harry to feel sorry for the man' s lot, no matter how cruel and underserved it was.

How was he supposed to feel? Glad? Sad? Guilty? Bitter?

None of these felt quite right to Harry.

Another family had been torn apart by Voldemort.

How could Harry be glad about that?

These were people who tried their best to make his life a miserable hellhole.

It was Dudley' s fault that Harry had never had any friends before coming to Hogwarts.

It was Aunt Petunia' s that Harry had never got to know what being loved meant.

It was Uncle Vernon' s fault that Harry had never known what a remotely _normal_ life was.

They were the people who denied him a family.

How could Harry grieve for people who would have never grief for him, had the roles been reversed?

No, Harry felt _hollow_. Completely at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. He looked up and saw McGonagall peering at him, as if to detect any sign that would give his internal turmoil away. He merely stared at her, puzzlement and bewilderment written over his face.

As for Dumbledore, he had his back turned on the both of them, and he was leaning against the nearest wall, a gesture very unlike the wise wizard, a gesture that Harry found quite bothering for it was very unlike Albus Dumbledore to put off such a display of weakness, of _humanity_.

'Professor' Harry started, his voice much weaker than he intended. 'Professor, what is supposed to...to happen next?'

Whether Dumbledore had been expecting heart wrenching sobs or not, he did not show it but he merely titled his head and said :

'The funerals will take place in a few days, your uncle' s sister has taken care of everything.'

Harry remained silent.

'And I do not think it would be prudent for you to go, Harry' Dumbledore added, still not looking at him. 'Even under a disguise, we expect Death Eaters to linger.'

_'Harry I thereby forbid you to go' _would have produced the same result, Harry angrily thought.

But before Harry could think of uttering a reply, Dumbledore went on :

'You would be a tempting target, we would rather have you here safe. Another arrangement can be made if you wish to...'

'_Say goodbye_.' Harry silently completed.

Was it what Harry wanted? Bidding goodbye to the family who had never hesitated to show him what an unwelcome burden he was? A cold silence, was that what they deserved? A solemn goodbye?

Should Harry shrug away everything that had to do with the Dursleys and lock them off somewhere far away from him and from his life?

For more than a decade, the Dursleys had been his life, an ever-lasting, if very unpleasant, landmark, a certitude he now had to let go of. There would be no other summer in Privet Drive.

In more than one way, Harry felt it wrong to let it all go without any kind of acknowledgment.

'A tempting target' Dumbledore had just said.

It suddenly dawned on Harry. They wanted to reach him, He wanted to reach him. By killing off what remained of his family, Voldemort wanted to reach Harry, and the Dursleys had stood between them both and Voldemort merely cut out the middleman.

This realisation punched Harry in the guts, and he started to feel dizzy. Dumbledore' s anticlimactic announcement was one thing, this piece of information was all together another thing that would pile up to Harry' s mountain of guilt. First, Cedric, then Mr. Weasley' s attack, and now the Dursleys. Who would be next? Ron? Hermione? Sirius? Remus?

The room was now spinning in a wild whirl of colours, and Harry was about to lose his balance when he felt hands on his shoulders, gently urging him to the armchair that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere and that was now sitting in front of Dumbledore' s desk.

Harry tried his best not to shake but his hand started trembling against his will, and he was furious against himself. Furious that he cared enough about the Dursleys to be so affected by their death, furious that tears were now rolling down his cheeks, furious that everything he touched seemed to crumble in his hands, furious that Dumbledore, of all people, had to be the one witnessing Harry' s distress.

Hands were still on his shoulders, but they were not Dumbledore' s. McGonagall was beside him, refraining from giving inane words of comfort, for she knew that they would be useless and ill-received by Harry, and she was just standing there, a silent sentinel, watching over her younger charge.

Dumbledore had not moved an inch, and, through the mist his tears had cast over his sight, Harry could still see the older wizard, rubbing his forehead, a pained expression stretching over his face.

* * *

><p>A faint groan of pain escaped his lips as he tried. He clutched his teeth as his joints protested against the sudden change of position. He had been trying to retrieve a vial from one of the bottom shelves of his personal stores, but only managed to bring more pain as he kneeled down on the cold ground.<p>

The Dark Lord had not been happy, and he had shown it well.

The vial, thankfully unbroken, had rolled a few feet away from Severus. He stretched out his hand and picked it up, his hold angrily tightening around the cool glass.

He was lucky he had not ended up in the Hospital Wing this time, for he could not afford to fall behind in his work. He ignored the lingering pain in his back and simply uncorked the vial and gulped down its content.

He put the vial down on his desk and readied himself for yet another dull session of paper grading, perhaps the aspect he abhorred most in his teaching job. He read the name written on the first paper of the stack.

Sixth year NEWT students.

Ah, it should not prove as dull as he expected it to be. While teaching students below Fifth year was irksome, his NEWT classes were competent enough and he even found himself enjoying teaching these students sometimes. He only took the best, and he expected the best from his NEWT classes. It might take five years for students to understand this particular aspect of Severus' teaching, but once they had grasped this concept, they found Potions classes to be much more enjoyable than they could have ever thought. And this went for Severus as well.

He progress quite slowly through his grading, and only got it done some three hours later, but he felt somewhat satisfied of the work provided by his students. He would grade the miserable homework the Second Years gave him later, for he did not feel up to the dull task just yet. He stretched a bit on his chair, and glanced at the clock.

Ah, it was time for dinner.

Oh, joy.

Albus required that every Head of House be present in the Great Hall during dinner, and he was very aware of just how much Severus despised it. A peaceful and silent evening was not an option tonight.

He walked out of his office, waving his wand to lock the door as he did so. His great billowing cloak embracing his thin figure as he strode in the corridor leading up to the great staircase, greeting curtly the Slytherin students he passed and, soon, he was sitting on his usual seat at the Staff Table, scrutinizing the wave of faces, all of whom completely unaware of their teacher' s watch.

Umbridge was happily babbling about god-knew-which-topic to anyone who lent an ear, and Minerva, though thoroughly annoyed by her _colleague_' s talking, looked unusually solemn. Albus was pleasantly conversing with Filius and Pomona, whose enthusiasm for the side-project she offered to Longbottom (a development at which Severus could not help but sneer) caused her to spill the glass of pumpkin juice that used to sit in front of her. Sybil was her usual odd self, and Hagrid' s attempt to chat with her failed spectacularly.

Severus, who could not be bothered by such social frivolities, was observing the students. He spotted several of his Slytherins sniggering stupidly at whatever story Draco Malfoy had told them, and saw a group of Ravenclaws pouring over the latest edition of the Evening Prophet.

He also spotted Potter, along with his happy bunch of imbecilic friends, muttering a conversation. Or rather, he spotted Potter not being the least concerned by the muttered conversations his happy bunch of imbecilic friends had. He was merely toying with his food, not actually eating it, staring at his untouched goblet, full of what Severus guessed to be pumpkin juice.

Not that he was particularly concerned about Potter Senior' s spawn, but Severus surmised that what recently enraged the Dark Lord was the cause of Potter Junior' s gloomy mood.

Petunia' s face suddenly sprang up before his eyes, her empty expression much like the one she had when he last saw her.

He blinked, and his fingers violently contracted and his right hand gave a spasm. The glass of wine he had been holding escaped his grasp and the fragile glass shattered on the hard table. The wine spilt over the table, and splattered Severus' teaching robes.

The noise attracted many stares from students and teachers alike. Severus froze a few moments before he snapped out of his momentary torpor and, ignoring the looks, vanished the red liquid with a flick of his wand. He narrowed his eyes and glowered at every person who was still looking at him. Many curious students sheepishly looked down and turned back to their dinner, but Minerva and Albus shot him quizzical glances, to which he replied with a sharp glance of his own.

Five minutes later, he decided to take his leave for Albus and Minerva unnecessary concern was starting to irk him to no end. He quickly left the Great Hall without so much as a glance, fully aware of the look he attracted from Albus, and took the stairs leading down to the Dungeons.

On his way to his office, he stretched his fingers several times, as if to make sure of their full functionality, and he did not stop until he got into his office and locked the door behind him.

What was _that_?

Severus was no stranger to sudden flashbacks, but he had built up defenses against such things for a long time, he was almost immune to them, even.

_Almost._

It was troubling, worrying, it had been years since he last got such troubling flashbacks, and his Occlumency shields had kept such occurrences at bay. But tonight had been the first crack in his carefully crafted mask, the first fault in his defense. And the very thought made him nauseous.

He could _not_ crumble now, not when the Dark Lord was on the move. His success was crucial, and too much depended on his success.

He stared at his right hand. This should _not_ have happened either, the potion he had taken earlier that evening was supposed to heal the lingering nerve damage. The latest meeting with the Dark Lord has been bad, but not as bad as the previous ones has been. Severus had managed to scrape by without sustaining serious injuries, and had therefore avoided another stop at the Hospital Wing. But as Poppy had signified him, the nerve damage lingered, and, by paying the Dark Lord a visit or two, Severus now risked to degrade his already precarious health even further. The potions he took were of his own creation, he had improved them and strengthened them, increasing their effects and allowing him to heal quicker.

And this was perhaps what was most disquieting about tonight' s little _faux-pas_, because it meant that the potions were not working any longer.

Severus sighed, doubt now creeping in. Poppy had warned him this would happen, but what choice did he have? Unless Albus managed to find another spy to fill in by some miracle, Severus would not even consider _quitting_.

He walked over to a nearby cabinet, and opened it. Light erupted and bathed the darkened office in a white, silvery glow. Runes carved out of stone faintly shimmering faintly as if coursed through by a bluish liquid. Severus brought his wand to his temple. He closed his eyes and slowly drew a thin silver thread of memory.

Storing that particular memory away for the time being was the best course of action Severus could think of. There was no point in torturing himself over it, he would put it back where it belongs when his defenses were back to normal.

Tonight, he was too tired to deal with it just yet.

He watched the thin thread floating in the air one moment before it swooned slowly down into the Pensieve. It touched the swirling substance and gently mingled into the other memories, creating a faint disturbance over the ever-whirling surface.

He threw one last glance over his shoulder before shutting the cabinet, and briefly caught a glimpse of Petunia Dursley, née Evans, being flung backward as a sinister emerald light hit her.


	25. Punishment

**Disclaimer : Yes, I'm still here and publishing! I just think it safe to say that the chapter will be published when I'll have them written, my attempt at keeping my promise was disastrous, I will publish the next chapters, but not at the pace I used to. I hope you'll all like this chapter, even though it comes quite late. **

**Thanks everyone for reading :)**

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><p><strong>Punishment<strong>

'Now Lucius' intoned an icy cold voice. You can't have thought that I would take this rash killing all too kindly, can you?'

A wand whipped the air.

A cry of pain.

'Give me one good reason for what you did, Lucius, and I might consider letting you walk out of here without too much damage'

'My Lord' Lucius Malfoy moaned hoarsely. 'My Lord' He repeated, his teeth painfully clenched as he tried to get back up on his feet, but he only failed miserably and sprawled on the ground, the cool surface smoothing the pain for one short moment.

'The muggles would have been a disturbance, my Lord' He told, his voice almost unrecognizable to his own ears. 'Black' s coming trial, my Lord...'

Before he could finish, though, another beam of red light hit him and he was thrown back a few feet away, white-hot pain coursing through his body, pale twisted fingers scraping the hard ground in an effort of containing another cry of pain.

It had been three days that Voldemort had kept Lucius here, inflicting what the master thought to be a well-deserved punishment.

It stopped again.

'You have told me so already, Lucius' Voldemort said coolly, as if bored. 'But I am...ah, astounded that you should be the perpetrator of such a foolish move.'

The only answer he got was Lucius' panting and whizzing breath, the man was determinedly keeping his head down, afraid to meet his unforgiving master' s scarlet eyes.

A fear said master was fully aware of.

He advanced slowly on the man, relishing the effect he created on his servant, his foolish, foolish servant, whose last move could have proven catastrophic for the carefully crafted plan he had devoted himself to creating. Six months of efforts, of secrecy, risked twice by incapable servants. Perhaps it was time for him to make an example out of one of his Death Eaters, something he had avoided up until then, for he could not afford to lose one of his followers, there were too few of them and every one of them, although not particularly talented, had their own uses.

And killing Lucius now would prove most inconvenient, the man might be foolish and incompetent at times, he was too precious an asset for Voldemort to consider to get rid of him. He was his eyes at the Ministry, he knew many witches and wizards, he knew how to sway them.

And yet, it was with utter contempt, with something close to despise, that the Dark Lord looked at Lucius.

Skeletal hands gripped the man' s chin, and Lucius twitched violently at the sudden touch.

He smiled, a ruthless sort of smile, devoid of any joy but full of satisfaction.

Foolish, every one of them. Useful, but foolish.

Deluded, faithful little sheeps, disposable at will, easily broken.

Lord Voldemort trusted no one.

He forced Lucius to look him in the eye.

'Look at me, Lucius'

Lucius' fearful grey eyes met his own.

His master had left him no time to brace himself for the coming assault. Seconds later, Voldemort was exploring his servant' s pathetic mind, gliding from one memory to the next one with alarming ease, until he found what he had been looking for.

He withdrawn brutally from Lucius' mind and let out a small laugh, baring his yellow teeth to the panting man. One would almost expect the Dark Lord to bare pointed fangs at whoever had the misfortune to have the man so physically close to oneself.

Tremors were now shaking Lucius' body, and he barely heard what his master told him before unconsciousness embraced him.

'Put Dolores Umbridge to good use, Lucius, but make one single mistake, and I will not be lenient.'

Curious, Voldemort thought, amused as he saw Lucius fall unconscious at his feet, that he had to put so much efforts into getting to Harry Potter.

'And now, my dear Lucius, I believe the time for your punishment has come'

* * *

><p>And a terrible smile stretched the coulourless lips.<p>

'_Confundo_' The witch whispered.

It was lucky, Emmeline thought, that she managed to get into the man' s office unnoticed. Perusing through the different files and getting the right forms for the procedures without attracting attention had been tricky enough. '_Mad-Eye would be proud_' she mused. '_to see how well it all went_'.

The past week had been particularly fructuous, and with the discreet help of Kingsley, she got the Pettigrew' s transfer to St Mungo's. A few snags here and there had had to be taken care of (a few Memory Charms and several Confunding Charms made the trick, two spells at which Emmeline happened to excell at, for she had once worked as an Obliviator, several years ago. Which probably was the reason why Dumbledore had chosen her for this_ assignement_ in the first place) but everything went surprisingly smoothly.

But she would save the self-congratulating session for later; she did not get to see Pettigrew for her own eyes, so, for all she knew, the man could be already dead. There was no time to waste, but hurrying the whole thing through would be disastrous.

She began to mutter several incantations, waving her wand under the nose of the Head of St Mungo' s, Gotham Nutwill.

'You will accept Peter Pettigrew under a false name into your establishment'

He wand gave off a pale blue light, which soon enveloped the man's head, his vacant eyes staring at something that was behind her. He nodded, like an automaton.

'You will not notify anyone of this, safe a few hand-picked healers assigned to his case.'

The man nodded again, his mouth half-opened, his wand safely secured in Emmeline' s pocket.

'You will yourself forget that you accepted Peter Pettigrew into the Hospital.'

Another nod. The light was now deep blue.

'You will only remember accepting Euan Kirke, victim of a Death Eater assault'

And this had been Kingsley' s idea, and he even managed to get a fake-announcement of the fictional attack in the Daily Prophet, which was a remarkable feat.

'You will not remember meeting me, or seeing me. You were having tea and no one disturbed you, you were alone'

Another nod.

And then, she whispered.

'_Obliviate_'

* * *

><p><em>"Magical Patterns and how they effect spells"<em>

The scratch of a quill.

A piece of parchment ripped apart.

Draco sighed; did McGonagall have to set such a tricky essay? It was perhaps the most complex subject Draco had ever studied and it was desperately difficult to understand the stupid subtleties it involved. And this was just his OWL year.

He tossed away his quill and decided to leave his poorly written essay aside for today, he was diligent in his schoolwork, but Transfiguration was his weak spot. He stretched his limbs and threw a careless look around the library. No one in sight. He gathered his things, chucked them into his schoolbag and hurried his way out of the place, not wanting to linger in the place any longer than necessary.

He made his way down to the Dungeons, and his thoughts wandered a bit. He had not heard of his parents recently, which was odd since his mother made it a point to send him at least one letter a week (something Draco made tremendous efforts to hide from his peers). Not surprising, Draco thought, as a lot of things could happen in one single week, especially since the Dark Lord's return. And he wanted to be keep informed of what was going on at home when he was at Hogwarts.

Draco had heard very little from his father up until now, and truth to be told, it worried Draco _ever so slightly_. Draco had not seen it for his own eyes, but the treatment the Dark Lord seemed to keep for his father was particularly harsh. Here again, it was unsurprising, his father could not expect leniency from a man he had worked so hard to deny for more than a decade.

Still.

Draco did not like it, not matter how rough and severe Lucius Malfoy was towards his son, the last thing he wanted was to see him disgraced or...or worse. He shuddered slightly as he was making his way down to the Dungeons. Of course, Draco would be expected to join the Dark Lord's rank someday, a most honorable duty that had been bestowed upon him, his father said, and a task he would be proud to fulfill. His future was already carved into stone, Draco Malfoy would grow to be like his proud father, an accomplished and wealthy man. Any other path was considered unworthy and unbecoming for a Malfoy, living up to his name was an aim Draco would thrive to reach. It had been drilled into his skull when he was a child.

All the expectations that had been thrown onto his shoulders were sometimes hard to bear.

Draco shook his head and dismissed his train of thought, wherever his father was, there was not much he could do to help him. Every Hogwart student was under Dumbledore's careful watch, and a suspicious move from Draco's part could result into his expulsion.

_No_, Draco thought, _lingering on it all won't help, pull yourself together Draco._

He was at the base of the great staircase when he saw an owl rushing past the massive wooden entrance doors. A coal-black owl, very familiar to anyone living in Malfoy Manor.

Draco's eyes widened as the owl, now perched on his shoulder, stretched out its foot.

'_What are you doing here, Pyrion_?' He whispered to himself.

He untied the carefully-made knot that held the letter and gently took the piece of parchment from the owl. Pyrion nibbled his master's ears with affection, and hooted softly.

Draco glanced around him. The hall was deserted safe for a few second-year students that paid no attention to him, he slipped the letter into his robe pockets and stroke his owl's feathers a brief moment before the owl took flight and exited the hall, its black wings gracefully slapping the air, and soon, the only thing Draco could then see of the owl was a faint and faraway black spot moving into the sky, far from Hogwarts.

He tore his eyes away from it and threw one last look in the hall. He quickly went down the stairs leading to Professor Snape' s classroom and to the Slytherin Common Room. He walked past the classroom and soon reach the pan of wall which every Slytherin knew concealed the entrance to their Common Room, but he did not stop there and took a sharp turn leading deeper down into Hogwarts Dungeons.

His steps led him smoothly through the numerous and seemingly endless corridors, he knew the place and was not the least worried about losing himself in this labyrinth.

It was perhaps damper and more miserable than the rest of the Dungeon, if that was possible, but it was safe from prying eyes and sneering peers, and that was all Draco was looking for. It was peaceful down here, lonely, miserable, damp, even flooded by places, but peaceful and silent, isolated from the rest of the school. He was not even very far down into the dungeons.

Few ventured here, and Draco belonged to those few.

He finally found the door, a heavy and half-rotten door, the handle was rickety and so rusted that it was quite impossible to tell which colour was the iron that wrought it. A faded number was carved into on a strangely intact copper plate, this was Dungeon number 41. He took his wand out of his pocket and tapped it on the handle. The door opened silently ; he slipped inside and shut the door quietly. He turned around and noticed a relatively clean spot in the empty chamber. This part of the castle was said to have imprisoned many a wizard in time of raging wars, and even students some centuries ago, when corporal punishments were still enforced in Hogwarts. Flinch's threat to hang students from the ceiling was actually a common punishment many years ago, before Dumbledore was born even.

He shook his head and waved his wand around the place. The tip of it ignited and the miserable location was bathed in the weak light, casting a monstrous shadow of Draco himself on the clammy walls. Draco took the letter from his pocket and unfolded it. His heart took a leap when he recognised his father's handwriting, he brought his wand near the granular surface of the piece of parchment, and proceeded to read what was written, but it was very short :

_Draco,_

_The time has come for you to live up to the name of Malfoy. Our mutual friend wishes to see within his ranks, an honor I hope you will be most proud of._

_Dispose of this letter once you are done reading it, no one can know yet._

_Your father,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

What?

Draco paled.

He re-read the letter, and again.

Not _now_.

Not _yet_.


	26. Beyond The Pale

**Disclaimer : Oh, now I feel bad . I was away on a trip for 3 weeks, and was unable to write and to publish anything, but I didn't plan to take so long to publish the next chapter. My apologies everyone! The story is still going and the next chapter is already written (and just needs to be typed ;)), I'll have it published next monday at the latest. **

**I'm not really sure about this chapter, whether Severus and Harry's reactions are credible, about the writing style (which I'm starting to find repetitive) you will be the judge of that ;) I hope you will enjoy it :)**

**Thanks everyone for following up this story! :) I'm genuinely glad that some people take the time to leave a review or two, because it really helps!**

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><p><strong>Beyond The Pale<strong>

'I am really wondering whether you are genuinely trying or not, Potter' Snape coldly said, anger slowly crreping in in silky voice.

It was one of these unpleasant Occlumency lessons, during which Snape seemed to draw a morbid pleasure from belittling Harry, to the latter' s misfortune. Harry groaned softly, his hand covering his eyes. Snape had tried to break through his feeble shields and had no difficulties whatsoever to do so; such attempts always left him shaky and feverish. Snape might have insisted on trying this other approach, but it turned out to be almost as unpleasant as the first method Snape resorted to. Granted, his teacher was not half as vindictive as he was then, but he remained a very unpleasant teacher, might he be teaching Potions or Occlumency. Although, Harry had actually progressed and managed to erect his less-than-satisfactory shields, just on time, before Snape started peering into his less pleasant memories.

He drew himself up back on his feet and went pick his wand that he had tossed away at the other side of the room, without even realising it, during Snape's attempt on his mind.

The man was standing, wand in hand, his demeanour as stiff as always, his eyes darting from Harry to the wand lying near the deep purple sofa, his look expressing the disapproval he did not need to voice.

Harry was careful enough to not meet the man's eyes when he walked pass him, quite certain of what he would see should he dare to look up, and he retrieved his wand, nervously running his fingers on its rough surface in an attempt to pull himself together. They were in the Room of Requirement again, and Snape seemed determined to gave every single Occlumency lesson in this room : something that sounded quite agreeable to Harry for not having the disgusting nameless creatures silently floating in their jars anywhere near him was of real help. Therefore, not having lessons in this horrible office of his was what Harry considered a genuine progress.

One short moment later, he turned around and got back on the spot he had been standing on minutes ago. He forced his chin up, bringing him to look at his teacher, and twisted his face into an expression of open defiance, a very familiar expression to anyone attempting to teach him Occlumency.

It had clearly lost its effect, though, as Snape remained utterly unimpressed and merely arched an eyebrow at Harry. He gave his wand a tiny wave, indicating Harry to brace himself for his next move.

Unconsciously so, Harry drooped his shoulders a little, but his defiance did not waver one bit as he raised up his mental shields.

Snape pointed his wand at Harry, right between his eyes, and closed his eyes one brief moment before his lips formed the silent incantation:

'_Legilimens_'

And yet again, Snape brushed away his protection he had worked so hard to build up, and he immediately plunged into the nearest memory he could find.

Flashes of memories appeared before Harry's eyes, distant sounds formed words he could not quite hear, swirling colours swimming around him.

And then, the first memories became more distinct, clearer.

'_I am sorry, Harry, my boy, none of them survived._'

And this was the last thing Harry wanted Snape to see.

Another memory formed in the front of his mind, distant and blurry at first, far from both Snape's and his reach, but suddenly, he was staring right into his 6 year-old self, the smaller boy struggling to get the heavy and hot frying pan off the stove.

Harry blinked, as if to chase the painful images away, but to no avail for Snape refused to let go of the memory. His harsh voice boomed into his head :

'_**Defend yourself, Potter! Deny me access!**_'

Harry willed the memory away, trying hard to focus on his shields, the Gryffindor Common Room, or rather the mental representation Harry's mind had made of it. Soon, indistinct shapes sprang up from the void Harry created for one brief moment in his attempt to push Snape away. A squashy armchair, a fire happily crackling in the hearth, vague silhouettes gliding around Harry as he imagined himself standing in the room.

It was the first time that Harry managed to erect such strong shields, his efforts had paid off at last. He could feel a vague sense of approval coming off a distant presence in his mind, and fleetingly wondered whether it was Snape or not before his teacher made one last attempt on his defenses.

It was not a brutal one, but it was enough to blow his shields off, the way someone would blow off a candle. It went all dark, Harry was completely taken aback by the sudden attack and had no time whatsoever to brace himself for the next memory he and Snape would see.

'_Kill the spare._'

Harry closed his eyes as the bright green light swam in his sight, his stomach gave a terrible lurch and a lump formed in his throat. He could not, _would not_ take it any longer, this was too much, he wanted this over, he wanted to flee the horrific memory, to shut it away, far from Snape' s prying eyes, far from himself.

Heck he wanted Snape OUT.

And without fully realising what he was doing, he raised his wand and almost screamed the incantation :

'Expelliarmus!'

The force of the spell brought Snape down on the ground, his wand flying far from his reach. Anger crossed his face, he was indeed _a tad_ more than displeased with his student.

But Harry paid little attention to the man : he was heavily leaning against the nearest wall and panting as if he had just run a marathon.

This was certainly why he had come to loathe those lessons; they left him in such a vulnerable state, it brought memories Harry could not deal with just yet, memories, if it was up to him, he would rather have buried deep into his mind, never to be forced up in the surface of his consciousness again. That Snape, of all people, was the one to witness Harry at his most vulnerable enraged him, it made him feel weak, incapable.

Strangely enough though, Snape had not sneered at Harry yet, he had not jeered at his powerlessness, except for a few disparaging comments (because it was Snape he was talking about, after all). The man was not as nearly as cruel as he could be towards Harry.

'_Finally got it was counter-productive, the git!_' Harry bitterly thought.

No matter how drastically had Snape' s behaviour changed, he was still the one bringing Harry down on his knees, sometimes quite literally; he was the one reducing him into this state, bringing out his weakness, unburying what he was frantic to hide.

Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead and tightened his already-painful grip on his wand, the only comfort he had ever found during those _damned_ lessons.

'One last time, I think.' He heard Snape say, his tone indicating all but friendly intentions. 'And we will call it a day.'

Harry did not bother to hide the sigh that escaped his lips, he turned slowly around, apprehension clear in his eyes, and came face-to-face with his instructor, whose very being radiated an icy cold fury.

Harry' s arm were dangling uselessly at his sides, his wand was pointed at the ground, for all the good it would do.

He had had enough of anything remotely related to Occlumency, for a _lifetime_.

He would _NOT_ give Snape the revenge he wanted.

He was tired.

'Prepare yourself' Snape admonished, his pale face flushed up with an anger he could not conceal.

It was remarkable, Harry told him offhandedly, that Snape had not snapped yet, for his teacher had seldom had this kind of self-restraint with Harry.

But Harry _really_ was tired.

Snape pointed his wand at him.

No, Harry did not think he could take it one more time tonight.

His teacher closed his eyes one brief moment.

Harry' s body gave a sudden jerk and, in a split-second decision, he leveled his wand with Snape' s and, as his teacher's lips formed the incantation, Harry shouted :

'PROTEGO!'

* * *

><p>Caught off by the boy' s sudden outburst, Severus felt his own shields waver under the force of his own attack and to his disarray and fury, he was powerless to throw the boy out of his mind. For one short moment, he let the boy catch glimpses of Severus' memories.<p>

*Severus brewing Wolfsbane in his laboratory*

*Black's waxen face in the Shrieking Shack*

A shot of hatred ran through Severus.

*Merciless crimson eyes looking down, a cruel lipless smile*

And hell would freeze over before Severus ever contemplated letting the Potter boy see _this_.

*Petunia Dursley, hit by the killing curse*

Potter brutally withdrew from his mind; the attack must have lasted a few seconds at most but the boy was gasping for air, his now-ashen face screaming out his complete confusion and his new-found horror.

At least, the boy was smart enough to not meet Severus' eyes.

Severus was beyond furious, he was irate.

How on earth he let Potter in his mind was quite beyond his own understanding. The boy had just seen things he should have never seen, things not meant for Little Precious Potter's eyes.

He was mortified, even though he hid it well from the boy.

'This is the second time this happens, Potter'

He had great difficulties keeping his voice steady.

'I should think that my first warning was enough to deter you from ever trying such a stunt again, you idiot boy. I should think that the first time you broke into my mind taught you a lesson about the use of the Shield Charm when practicing Occlumency.'

He took one step toward the boy.

Potter was gaping, stupidly so, like a fish caught out of the water;

Something that enraged Severus even further.

He took another step.

'Clearly' Severus hissed, his own voice unrecognizable to his ears. 'I was mistaken.'

He would have grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck had the boy not chosen this very moment to snap.

'YOU! YOU WERE THERE!'

Potter was not looking for confirmation, it was not a question.

Though the boy' s tone was more hateful than Severus had ever heard, he remained completely unfazed by the rage Potter displayed.

However, he knew that Potter could not leave the room just yet.

He threw one fleeting glance at the door a few feet away from the boy, and carefully considered the spell he would cast when he deemed locking the door necessary.

'WH-WHAT? HOW? WHY!' Potter shouted, his voice coarse.

_What have you done?_

_What was it for?_

_How could you be the one who did that?_

_Why did it have to be you?_

Ridiculously easy to read.

Severus had stopped asking himself those questions for a long time.

To retain what was left of his sanity.

Potter turned on his heels and bolted, almost ran, to the door, fully intending to escape the place.

But Severus gave his wand a graceful wave, and when Potter unwisely tried to blast the door off its hinges, it firmly remained shut and unaffected by the boy' s attempts, effectively locking Harry Potter in a towering fury and his dreaded teacher in the Room of Requirement.

'Not so quick, Potter.' Severus intoned.

'LET ME OUT!' was the only answer he got from Potter.

And this kind of reply would not move Severus one bit.

Potter turned around, again, and faced his infamous teacher, staring hard into Severus' face, no defiance from the boy' s part to be found. He was looking for something. What for, though? Regret? Guilt?

He would find none of it.

The boy seemed to realise it as well, as his next move was perhaps even more foolish than anything he had ever done since he set foot in Hogwarts.

Potter actually had the nerve to draw his wand on him, or rather he was about to so when Severus almost growled :

'Put that wand away, Mr Potter, or your latest _incursion _will be the least of your worries.'

It did not quieted Potter' s anger, but it got him to drop his wand right away. It rolled away from his master for what seemed the umpteenth time this evening, the faint sound quickly dimmed and an extraordinarily tense silence fell in the room.

Did Severus owe the boy any explanation at all?

Oh yes, he did.

Potter was the very last person to whom he felt he owed anything, he did not have to justify himself to a 15 year-old teenage having a direct connection to the Dark Lord' s mind and incapable of controlling his emotions. A deadly combination, if Severus was allowed to voice his thoughts aloud.

Potter would wait all night long if that was what it would take to get an explanation out of his teacher, this was very clear in the boy' s determined eyes.

Foolish, foolish child.

His lack of talent for Occlumency would bring the boy' s own loss.

Something that Severus could not allow to happen, lest the war take a very unpleasant turn for the Order. It was unexplainable that a child, that this child should be the one to bring the Dark Lord' s downfall by some sort of miracle, just because an unreliable Seer at best _said so _15 years ago.

The boy had made progress though.

'_Albus, you senile old man._'

'I will not' Severus finally said. 'have you tramping in the corridors like an enraged bull.'

His own anger had almost vanished, and what was left of it only made weary, weary of what he knew he would have to tell Potter in a few moments.

'_Damn you, Albus._'

He pursed his thin lips and brought his fingers to his temples. He proceeded to massage them as smoothly as he could, not quite able to control the tremor that had seized his fingers.

Tiredness settled into his body.

The boy was still silent, his anger still reaching its boiling point, his entire body trembling madly from the relentless attempts on his mind and his latest..._discovery_.

Severus turned his back on him and went over to the nearest armchair, and with all the self-restraint and dignity he could muster, he tried not to sound too irritated when he invited Potter to do the same :

'Sit down, Potter.'

The neutral tone he used when he uttered this even surprised Severus himself, the boy, slight put off by the sudden lack of resentment toward him, snapped out of his brooding. He did not move though, and he merely kept his chin up, crossing his arms in angry stubborness, his defiance now back into full force.

A demeanour Severus dismissed with a careless wave of his hand.

'Do you have any idea of what war entails, Mr Potter?' Severus bluntly asked.

A question which was met with obstinate silence.

'Casualities, Mr Potter' Snape uttered. 'You would be among those who know this well, wouldn't you?'

_'Painfully well, I would add'_ Severus added to himself.

'Now Mr Potter, let us move onto a more complex subject' Severus disparagingly said in his best teacher voice.

The boy balled up his fists and glared at his teacher with a surprising intensity.

'What do you think _my position_' Severus put a particular emphasis on the word. 'entails?'

Severus loathed the fact that he was the one explaining this to the boy.

Most unsurprisingly, silence was the only reply he got from Potter.

'I expect an answer, Mr Potter, and we shall wait for it all night long if necessary.'

'Killing off muggles, Sir?' Potter said abruptly, and he sneered the last word.

'Whether you are a muggle or a wizard is of little importance, Mr Potter, for none will leave this war unscathed.'

'And putting the murder of my relatives on the account of this sure sounds completely acceptable to you, doesn't it?' Potter spat, his voice shaking hard.

'Is war acceptable Mr Potter?' Snape hissed.

Potter remained speechless for a few moment.

'You know who this is the Order is fighting, who countless other wizards died fighting. You have had a glimpse of what he is capable of and what he would do should he ever embrace victory.'

Potter lowered his gaze and stare intensely the ground.

He could almost hear the boy voicing his own thoughts :

He knew painfully well.

'Questionable deeds such as the one you have just witnessed are considered a mere entertainment by the Dark Lord, a sport of some kind. Certainly, Mr Weasley has told you this, hasn't he?'

Of course he has, Severus had seen it for his own eyes in the boy' s mind.

'Murders that some Death Eaters are glad to commit, people some of them are only too happy to slaughter. What do you think a Death Eater is expected to do? What do you think I am expected to do in such circumstances?'

Potter finally spoke up :

'They're dead because Voldemort'

A sharp shot of pain ran through his left forearm.

'wanted to get to me!'

'And what do you think would happen, Potter' Severus casually went on, brushing off the boy' s interruption. 'should I refuse to carry out a direct order from the Dark Lord?'

Of course, Potter knew, of course, he had had visions of the Dark Lord punishing several Death Eaters.

The boy did not dare to voice it aloud, though, he clenched his teeth hard, his jaw firmly set.

'Is what I am trying to explain to you making its way into your brains, Potter?'

Silence, again.

'Is it?' Severus repeated.

Slowly, very slowly, Potter gave a nod.

Severus almost sighed with relief.

'My job' Severus' voice dropped to a quiet whisper. 'is to ensure that every scrap of information arrives as safely as possible into the Order' s hand. As you have already heard the phrase, I am sure, Potter, knowledge is power, and knowledge can save many lives.'

'But knowledge has a cost.' Severus added, peering at the younger wizard, carefully watching his reactions as he delivered words that needed to be heard out by the boy.

Painful words, knife-like, as sharp as a blade.

'People get killed so that we get the information we need, and the deaths of a few benefit to the majority, to the very much alive majority.

The death of your relatives falls into that category, Potter. There is nothing you could have done to stop the curse that hit them.'

Potter blinked, if he expected anything out of his teacher' s mouth, this certainly was not that.

'I did not cast the spell that killed them, this is a point I feel necessary to clear before we have you screaming bloody murder in the castle and causing unnecessary trouble.'

Severus threw a pointed look at Potter, who looked away, his anger temporarily forgotten and a furious blush now colouring up his cheeks.

This one-sided conversation seemed to take quite a curious turn as Severus went on :

'No matter how much we dislike each other, Potter, I do not think that I am doing you a favour by sugar-coating things, because you will have to face those things eventually. Now, safely tucked away in Hogwarts, we all are quite sheltered, but the _big bad world_' He was very tempted to sneer the phrase. 'will soon catch up on us.'

_'As it has already catch up on me'_ Severus told himself as he thought of his latest stop by the Hospital Wing.

'Yes, Potter' Severus pursued, his tone as clinical and as emotionless as he could manage. 'Your relatives were murdered, and had been targeted but they would not have been spared.'

This fact seemed to sink into Potter' s thick skull, he waddled a bit on the spot, he bit his lower lip, his whole demeanour now loosening up a bit.

Severus could have sighed in relief, had he been alone.

But there was still one last problem to address before he let the boy go.

'One last thing, Potter, before you go.'

The boy looked up, puzzlement and surprise all over his face. He did not expect to be let out so easily and so lightly, especially after his violent outburst at the professor.

Severus worked hard to contain his smirk, but remained impassive as he said :

'Lay the blame where it rightfully belongs, your being is oozing with ill-place guilt, Potter.'

Potter looked down.

'For, if I remember correctly, you were not the one holding the wand, nor were you the one ordering their killing. And the same goes for Mr Diggory' s death.'

'Stop wallowing in your own misery, Potter' The boy' s eyes narrowed as he heard this, and his breath quickened. 'And focus on the living. Grieve at leisure if you deem it necessary to move on, but you cannot let your guilt trip lap over every other thing.'

* * *

><p>Now, Harry was dumb-founded. That Severus Snape, spiteful and black-hearted Severus Snape, was the one who (God forbids!) comfort him, who actually gave him what remotely looked like pieces of advice to cope with the present situation was quite beyond anything he would have imagined. And that Severus Snape did so after Harry had just broken into his mind, a <em>crime<em> that would have earned him at least two solid months of detention had his teacher been in his right mind, was out of this world.

And most of all, the sheer fact that comfort was given by Snape while Dumbledore could not lift his little finger when Harry needed the older man' s advice the most was simply...odd. Whether it was part of the new approach Snape preconized or not, Snape comforting Harry (in his own twisted and brutal way, of course) was simply not right.

His earlier rage has all but vanished, only to be replaced by confusion. He had been shaken by what he saw in Snape' s mind, to see what had been a glimpse of his aunt' s murder was bothering, to say the least, but to know that Snape had been present at that moment had turned his world upside down for one fleeting moment, one moment during which he actually considered drawing his wand on his teacher. Getting to see the spy in action was much different from hearing about the spy, hearing about his activities, and Harry did not want to ponder about what else Snape had been ordered to do so as to preserve his position among Voldemort' s ranks.

'Dismissed' Snape suddenly said, and he snapped his fingers. A loud clicking sound was heard and the door was unlocked. 'Read up the next chapter of the book.'

Harry sheepishly nodded and went over to the door, relieved that this lesson was finally over, but he was about to turn the handle when he heard Snape call him one last time :

'Your wand, Potter.'

Harry spluttered a very embarrassed 'Yessir.' and turned around to get his wand. He felt Snape' s eyes burning into his back as he crouched down to pick up his wand, but when he hurried back to the door, his teacher looked oblivious to his student. Harry could have sworn that his teacher could have cracked a crooked smile (or a sneer, which was more likely) at his embarrassment , had Snape been a tad more relaxed this evening.

'Should you ever mentioned anything of what happened tonight, Dark Lord or not, I promise you that you will live to regret it, Potter.'

Harry guessed that Snape was deadly serious about this threat, but a treacherous chuckle almost escaped him as this was something the _normal_ Snape would say.

'Yes, sir. Good night, sir' Harry finally said, his tone carefully neutral.

He did not look behind and walked out of the room as quickly as politeness would have it.

* * *

><p>The door was close, and Severus was alone, at last.<p>

He could not help marveling at how lightly he had just let the boy off.

Then again, cursing the boy into the next century would have not worked well with Dumbledore, and would not have worked for the future Occlumency lessons.

Yes, the new approach.

Famous last words.

That was something he had a hard time convincing himself of.

Severus would have to talk to Albus, though, Potter breaking into his mind was dangerous, both for Potter and Severus himself. Severus shuddered at the possible consequences should the Dark Lord have an unfortunate _timing_.

He knew that Albus would not change his decision of having the boy taught by Severus, but tonight' s lesson needed to be brought to the Headmaster' s attention.

He sighed heavily.

He was in for another long night.


	27. Midnight Ponderings

**Disclaimer : New chapter online! I have actually managed to hold my promise this time and I sure hope you'll like this chapter ;) There seems to be quite a lot of anguish lately, but I've planned to move things on a bit, because the plot is a bit in a standstill and what's essential about the characters' thoughts has been written and repeated. **

**I'll try my best to have the next chapter up before 10 days.**

**Thanks everyone! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Midnight Ponderings<br>**

Hogwarts was peaceful that evening, its inhabitants sleeping, its ghost silently gliding in the long corridors, leaving but the faintest mist on their trails. The buzzing activity of schooldays had been put to a full stop, the laughs and cries tuned down. The long halls, patrolled by a few teachers, were bathing in the silver moonlight, its gentle glow embracing the cold stone of the century-old castle.

It was in such moments that Albus Dumbledore enjoyed to take a midnight stroll; the castle was his home, his students his children. It was a place he could not imagine leaving unless extreme circumstances drove him to contemplate this possibility : becoming a teacher had perhaps been the best decision he had ever made in his long-lived life, training youngsters and helping them explore their potentials and abilities was truly gratifying. It was his rightful place, a position he gave up years ago though, and yet, how he longed to be back in the classrom, among his students, to fill their young heads with knowledge he could only hope they would use well.

He was humming a song, an old song his mother taught him what felt like a lifetime ago, when he was very young. He had heard her singing the song to both his brother and sister, when they were infants, and he liked to think that she had sung it to him too.

A wistful tone, full of nostalgia, taking him back to the days Albus Dumbledore was 'Ab', Aberforth and Arianna's older brother, Kendra and Percival' s son. Not the most celebrated wizard of the century, nor the most powerful wizard around, nor the most remarkable or notable. Nor the champion of Muggle.

Just Ab'.

Missing this brief period, these few years of blissful ignorance was futile, but Albus sometimes let his thoughts wander back to the glorious days of his childhood.

Before what would be his life came and ransacked his family.

Before he attended Hogwarts.

Before Arianna was attacked.

Futile, he whispered, futile.

Conjuring up all this pain around his long-dead sister was futile, this old wound would never quite healed.

Futile, he repeated to himself.

Or so had Albus been trying to convince himself of for years.

He stopped humming, burrying the memories back into the grave he had kept sealed up for a long time, its content never to see daylight again.

Cowardice, he added to himself.

Perhaps now was the time to get back to his work.

He stopped on his tracks and turned around, his nightgown whipping the air around his thin silhouette. The flame of the nearest torch flickered one brief moment.

Once he was back in his office, he went over to his desk and sat on the throne-like chair; the sheer amount of paperwork that awaited him put a damper on his already-morose mood. But, since complaining had little effect on the consequent load of work he had to complete tonight, he started immediately, the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses sleeping (or feigning sleep). Some, heavily leaned against their framework, were snoring loudly.

Phineas Nigellus was the only one seemingly awake, and the ever-present smirk on his face was lost on Albus, who had stopped paying attention to the man' s harmless provocation since his second week as a Headmaster.

He had been working for two solid hours when the fireplace flared up alive with bright green flames. No one came through the Floo, though, something for which Albus was quite grateful since he was quite tired and had no desire whatsoever to receive anyone in his office at such a late hour. He hoped to grab a few hours of sleep before daybreak. An envelope was spat out of the crackling fire, and flew right through the room and gently landed before Albus; He glanced at the thin handwriting and a pang of satisfaction coursed his tired body. It was Emmeline Vance' s handwriting, and her letter could only mean one thing.

He laid his quill down onto the letter he himself had been composing, and wasted no time to open the missive :

_Professor,_

_It's done._

_ Eva_

A tired but happy smile appeared on Albus' face, this was very good news indeed, one step further towards Sirius' trial.

Less than he owed his former student.

But this was a start.

And Harry' s custody was also being examined.

Harry.

It genuinely pained Albus to treat Harry the way he did, it was necessary, necessary that Tom never used Harry to get to Albus. He would not let Tom pushing Harry deeper into the terrible danger the younger wizard was already in. He would let Harry enjoy the little time he had left before war engulfed them all, including Harry. He would let Harry enjoy happy moments with his friends before Albus set him on a path from which he would not come back, from which he could not _turn_ back.

Before plunging into the gathering darkness, Harry would be a teenager, and live as one. Events would catch up on them soon enough.

Albus was very fond of Harry.

Harry, whose innocence and childhood had been ripped away from him, would enjoy a few months of reprieve. Albus wanted to return to the younger wizard a bit of what had been taken from him.

Even though this was for a brief period.

Later this night, the fireplace flared up a second time, and Severus Snape' s face appeared amidst the flames, the fire licking his ears and his nose.

This was perhaps one of these few times Albus wished Severus had chosen another night to show up in his office at one in the morning. He would not send him away, but this would have to be quick.

Severus took immediately took the hint when he saw the Headmaster' s face, his features stretched by fatigue and a deep frown barring his wrinkled forehead. Albus did look quite unwelcoming then.

'Do you want me to drop by a bit later, Albus?' Severus inquired as respectfully as he could.

Albus shook his head and indicated Severus to come through. Soon enough, Severus, clad in his usual teaching robes, stepped gracefully out of the fireplace, dusting off the ash that had gathered on his long sleeves.

Albus invited Severus to sit on the chair facing his, and went straight down to business :

'What is it, Severus?'

If the younger man felt destabilized in any way by these manners very unlike Albus, he did not show a sign of it, his face remained ever-impassive, his features smoothed out into an expression of polite, yet cold indifference. He spoke up:

'Teaching Potter Occlumency is like threading on thin ice at best, Albus, but we are bordering disaster. I am clearly not the man for the job.'

Had Albus had less self-restraint, he would have sighed with frustration. However, he merely shook his head and said:

'Do I really have to repeat the reasons why I am soliciting your skill and your time for this particular task, Severus?'

'This is no whim, Albus' Severus sharply retorted at once, slightly irritated by Albus' patronizing tone. 'Earlier this evening, the boy broke into my mind; I would like to say _by accident_' Severus acerbic tone emphasised. 'but I think this would be pushing it a bit too far. However, he did managed to see a memory related to his relatives' deaths, along with other things, harmless things luckily.'

Albus' brows went up as he listened to his colleague, and slight worry now tinged his tired face.

'...compelled me to explain the circumstances, unless I wanted the boy rampaging the castle like a wild beast. It cannot happen again, if the boy gets hold of information that are too dangerous for him to know, if the Dark Lord sees it...'

Severus paused a moment, his eyes wandering around the room. His silence spoke volumes about what exactly awaited him should such an unfortunate turn of event ever happen.

'He does not know I teach Potter Occlumency' He went on. 'for he does not know about the connection, or if he does, he does not know enough about it to speak about it to his Inner Circle. I would have no valid reason to teach the boy Occlumency, he would see this as an attempt to slow him down. And whether it was your idea or not would matter very little, Albus, when he will be punishing those he feel responsible for the situation.'

'Talking my way out of this would be desperately tricky, Albus. Potter not knowing your plans regarding the Order, this I can fully understand, but risking that the Dark Lord finds out that information I had provided are none too reliable...'

His voice trailed off, uneasiness now creeping into the room.

'Severus' Albus spoke out. 'I would not have you teach Harry had the risks been too important to take, we have already been over this subject. Everything for which we endeavour imply risks...'

'I am no longer a student, Albus' Severus cut off. 'So please, cease treating me as one.'

'I have a complete trust in your formidable abilities, Severus' Albus went on.

'Flattery will get you nowhere, old man' Severus coolly said, his tone less harsh than he intended it to be though.

'The point is, Severus, if Tom discovers about your lessons with Harry, I think he would ask for details about the connection he and Harry share. This would leave us time, precious time to act and to ensure your...ah _safety_.'

This, Severus thought, was one huge understatement. When, exactly, was Severus ever _safe_?

'I cannot be the one teaching Harry, because I would not have the time, and you are a better Occlumens than I am, something that can make a big difference. I am truly sorry that the both of you cannot get along, but putting the both of you into an uncomfortable situation was not my intend.'

He threw a pointed look at his colleage, who merely huffed in reply.

'That Harry saw your memories of the Dursleys' murder was unfortunate, but unsurprising. I wager that this will not be the last time young Harry enters into your mind, and you know it, Severus. Mistakes are essential to learning, and Harry will make mistakes, but only you can help him learn from his mistakes.'

Silence fell.

And stretched on.

Albus even scratched off a few words on the parchment he had been working on before his colleague' s little visit.

Quite suddenly, though, Severus asked in a calm and neutral voice :

'Have you informed the Order of Dedalus Diggle' s death?'

Albus looked up from the parchment.

'No' He replied, sadly. 'No, not yet, but I suppose some must know already, Arthur and Kingsley most certainly, they surely have relayed the news.'

'What do you think exactly happened, Albus?' Severus asked quietly.

Albus joined his hands in an unconscious imitation of a prayer, his piercing blue eyes surveying the letter he had just finished writing and merely replied :

'What is your theory, Severus? You were present after all, please, do enlighten me.'

Even though Albus meant no harm by saying this, the words pierced right through Severus; every waking moment was a reminder of his _job_.

Albus' ever-twinkling eyes were dull with weariness.

'Lucius merely eliminated the middle-man' Severus said abruptly. 'For a reason I cannot fathom, he seems to be taking Black' s coming trial very seriously...'

The unintentional pun brought a small smile to the older man' s face.

'And he decided to cut up the work for the Ministry, without consulting his master first, as you know it already, Albus. If the Potter boy cannot be under Black' s custody...'

Disdain now marked every word he uttered :

'Lucius will have the boy placed under the Ministry' s not-too-tender care. Considering that Fudge enjoys being as blind as a bat, it is a dangerous move.'

Albus nodded and unconsciously brought his hand to his chin.

'And now, I do not think that getting Sirius a double trial' Albus began, his voice tinged with concern. 'is a good idea. Lucius' move will impede things and complicate matters, it already has. The examination of Harry' s custody is something we should have considered later.'

'If Black loses the first trail and is sent back to Azkaban' Severus went on, following up with the Headmaster' s train of thoughts. 'Potter will be left with no guardian at all when outside of Hogwarts, since the demand for the boy' s custody will be denied without second thoughts.'

Albus was very glad that Severus did not show any outward sign of...ah, _happiness_ at the prospect of Sirius' possible, if improbable, return to Azkaban, should things turn very wrong for them.

'Would it be too late to stop the procedures now' Severus inquired, deep in thought, his tone surprisingly devoid of hostility.

'It would raise suspicion' Albus admitted, uneasy. 'Very few people have been assigned to this case, and these few people are supposedly working in secret. However' Albus' frown deepened. 'Harry' s custody is a matter that is no longer a secret, precisely because it is expected to be examined in light of the Dursleys' recent death. Withdrawing from the procedures now would do more harm than good, Cornelius and his associates, most especially Lucius, would seize the opportunity to force Harry into a very unfortunate position.'

Both men had now their hands joined.

'What do you suggest Albus?' Severus asked.

'I suggest that we keep a very careful watch on Lucius' moves.' Albus almost whispered, his eyes unfocused and his hand stroking his silver beard.

'His latest _initiative_ cost him dearly, he will not pull of such a stunt anytime soon.' Severus replied.

'Which is why we must be very cautious from now on, and by this I mean even more so than we are already. Subtlety is one of his _forte_, and we can be sure that he will strike again, he will elude anyone he thinks is suspicious.'

Severus merely nodded.

'I will contact Arthur, among others. Other plans for young Harry will have to be made, but I need to make sure of something first. We will speak of this all once arrangements will have been made, Severus' Albus titled his head, as if to chase off an imaginary fly.

Severus nodded again, and only then did he allow himself to relax, he squirmed a bit on his chair and hazarded to glance at the portraits that surrounded them. He peered at the now-very awake Headmasters, his eyes met with sheepish looks, disdainful ones, or even indifferent ones.

The current Headmaster tsked and every portrait drifted back into their former state of feigned sleep.

Suddenly, the weight of exhaustion fell on both men' s shoulders; they sat in a peaceful, if drowsy silence for a few moments before the older wizard gave a slight start, as if suddenly remembering a detail he had left out of the bigger picture :

'Severus, I have omitted to ask you one thing, my boy' Albus' pleasant tone was perhaps too light for Severus' comfort. 'What exactly happened the other day at dinner? You left so quickly that none of us had the time to ask if everything was alright.'

Severus was very tempted to tell Albus to mind his own business.

But he hold his tongue nonetheless, and simply shrugged the Headmaster' s question off.

'Nothing overly important, Headmaster' Severus casually replied. 'A lingering effect from my latest visit to Poppy.'

Albus froze the briefest moment before regaining his composure as quickly as he had lost it. He swallowed and lowered his eyes as he asked :

'And, is there anything I could...?'

His voice faded. Finishing what he had been about to say would have been pure hypocrisy on his part.

What could he do indeed?

_So much_, Albus told to himself.

Then again, circumstances required lives to be put on the front line.

Severus' life, among many other.

_For the Greater Good_. He had come to loathe this phrase, the ultimate justification for every order he had ever issued. For the Greater Good, or this nameless, abstract entity with no reality whatsoever.

_Will you every be able to forgive me, Severus?_

The latter was as impassive as ever.

'Do not bother yourself with this, Albus.' Severus intoned. 'It is but a small detail that will soon be taken care of, it will not happen again.'

Albus bent his head, the topic now closed.

'Very well' He concluded, and glanced at the wristwatch he was wearing. 'I think this is time for the both of us to go to bed. We will not be of much use if we walk around Hogwarts like sleep-deprived zombies.' Albus said pleasantly, twinkling eyes and all.

Severus dully nodded, and painfully got back on his feet : he swayed a bit but regained his balance quite quickly. He then got over to the fireplace and took a pinch of floopowder he immediately threw into the faintly glowing embers.

'Good night, Albus'

'Good night, Severus' Albus replied, popping one last lemon drop into his mouth.


End file.
